


Running Through The Motions

by Corvus_Aconitum



Series: Path less travelled by [2]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Seasons, a bit of cursing, continuation of 'Two Sides Of A Coin', lots of banter, lots of coffee, only with a more humorous twist, sports event... marathon and lots of running in general, taking care of each other, trusted allies to close friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: After Sean was kidnapped and nearly killed by a group of rogue wesen Nick has signed up for inter-precinct-marathon... to check up on his Prince, to finally get a real bit of running done... and to get a new friend... only that he doesn't yet know about that last bit.Nick keeps running, they keep meeting.





	1. Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tolieawake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolieawake/gifts).



> This is a continuation of Two Sides Of A Coin, featuring the duration from Nick signing in up to the actual marathon.  
> While writing the end of TSOAC this idea struck me and wouldn't leave.  
> So here are the boys, exchanging one or the other cellphone message and meeting more times than they thought possible.  
> By the way, this is for tolieawake, because just when I visited AO3 to post this I stumbled across that wonderful story 'modern day love letters' and thought, it really is the season for texting. ;)  
> You'll see why, when reading... ^, ^
> 
> >...< = text messages  
> cursive = thoughts

 

**Fall:**

 

Day 1 (September, 28th):

A week after Captain Renard returns to work after falling prey to 'a bad bout of flu' Nicholas Burkhardt signs in for participation of the inter-precinct marathon which is to take place next spring. It leaves him with approximately 7 months (220 days exactly... not that he's counted... who is he kidding?) to train and a way to do certain other things while going for his trice weekly scheduled run.

 

Day 15 (October, 12th):

Two weeks after Nick has decided on his plan of action Captain Sean Renard catches sight of the well known profile of a man who jogs along the street that runs directly below his condo, high up as it is situated.

 _It seems_ , the Prince thinks as he stands tall in front of his living room windows overlooking Portland, _that I have acquired not only a damn good runner for inter-precinct sports competition but a personal body guard as well._

And it is true. Every time Portland's resident Grimm goes for a training run his route leads him past his Captain's housing complex and every time he checks – with a surreptitious glance upward – that the man is alive and well.

 

Day 33 (October, 30th):

Renard is easily able to make out a pattern to his Detective's running. If they are on a case Nick will run early in the morning long before he has to be at work, if they are off rota and just doing paperwork he will run in the evening. No matter the time of day, though, the Grimm will make his way past his window exactly three times a week. After a little over a month of this Sean has seen him often enough – today being no exception.

He knows without a doubt that, had the Grimm wanted to hide his presence from him, he would have been able to do so. But reality is quite different. Nick shows himself deliberately – to his Prince who he wants to protect and to anyone who intents to do harm to either the Police Captain or the ruler of Portland's wesen community.

>>>

It is early evening, Portland is awash with fiery colours of fall and the Captain is once again standing in front of his living room windows enjoying a magnificent view:

Bright orange, burnt gold, Nick Burkhardt jogging past, adorned in a hoodie and track pants. The bastard Prince hides a smirk. Source of his amusement is an array of leaves stuck in Nick's hair and the hood of his sweatshirt, visible even at such a distance. It seems his route has lead him through Forest Park.

 

On a hunch he pulls out his cellphone and sends a message.

>As you are in the area already, do you want to come up? There's coffee.<

Down on the street Nick pulls out his own phone. He stares down at the screen for a moment before gazing upwards pinpointing his Captain's position at once.

>Sure. But be aware, there are most likely wet leaves stuck to my trainers.<

_Not only to your trainers, Detective. But no need to spoil the surprise by writing that now._

>>>

The sight his Detective presents upon entering his condo is an admittedly endearing one. Eyes alight with happiness, cheeks fairly glowing from running in the cold and, of course, those persistent pieces of greenery (more like _orangery_ ) clinging to unruly locks.

Nick for his part is not sure what to make of the barely there smile and a teasing glint in watchful eyes. Renard's appearance is a curious mix of an impeccable though

more casual attire and an ease that is non-existent in the man he presents himself to be at work.

“In case you haven't noticed, Detective, leaves are not only stuck to your shoes but also in your hair and hoodie.”

_That certainly explains some things._

Nick plucks the offending things out of tousled strands of hair with a sheepish grin. He holds them out to the other man, waggling his eyebrows enticingly while a quirk of lips turns into a full out mischievous smile.

“Need any items for fall decoration?”

An eyebrow is raised.

“What do you think?”

The Grimm looks up from where he has toed off running shoes in order not to sully his bosses' carpet.

“That bright orange would make a fabulous counterpoint to your cream coloured sofa.”

The zauberbiest emits a quiet scoffing noise as he leads the way farther into his home.

“Now you sound like your blutbad friend on an interior fitting spree.”

Nick scowls at that making Sean show the ghost of a devious smirk.

“So... you offered coffee?” The grey eyed gaze changes from stormy to longing.

“I didn't offer, I merely mentioned.”

“Captain, I'm shocked. Did you lure me up here under false pretences? If that is the case I should just leave my leaves (pun intended) here for your pleasure and be gone.”

“Hardly... on both accounts in case you've held any hopes. I never said you wouldn't get your brew. I merely corrected a false statement. And before you even think about dropping those things anywhere, do you see _any_ other seasonal decoration here?”

His tone is forbidding, his gaze hard, wholly the inscrutable bastard Prince. In face of this it is difficult not to shy away from making a flippant remark. But Nick isn't a Grimm and a cop for nothing. He has faced far more dire situations.

“No, but that shouldn't keep you from trying it out. You know, seasonal cheer and all.”

For emphasis the Detective turned fool waves around his leaves in a vague way as if testing where they would look best. A fact which the imperturbable 'biest ignores in favour of making his way into the kitchen.

_Evil, evil, unflappable man._

“Seasonal cheer is for Christmas. If you manage to find a single other article of fall decoration, though, you may leave them here.”

He throws over his shoulder sounding triumphant. Well, Nick has always enjoyed a challenge and lets his gaze sweep over his Captain's flat.

The view out of those windows is truly captivating. Maybe Renard doesn't need any decoration of the seasonal kind. After all there is a sea of beautiful, enchanting autumn colours spread out below, all for the Royal to enjoy. Observant eyes move on, roving over a sheer unending number of books, reading titles and grinning when he catches sight of a certain one.

_Article found. 1:0 for the Grimm. That leaves only 'the leaving'._

 

For the time being, however, Nick's attention is diverted by a heavenly smell wafting over from the kitchen.

_Mmmmh, thank God for delicious, high quality coffee! If this is one of the perks of being a Prince then I would give it a try._

“Here.” He jumps a bit at finding the older man directly beside him, standing tall and watching him closely. He hasn't heard him approach and ostentatiously thinking too closely about coffee makes for a serious breach in his defenses. If the tiny crinkles around Renard's observant eyes are any indication he has just been silently laughed at.

“Sorry. I spaced out. Coffee is a substance of true evil.”

“Than you may enjoy it to its fullest. No sense in doing things halfway if one is about to commit a sin anyway.”

Nick shows a charming devil smile thinking about his secret plan of action. He takes the mug – while somehow managing to hold onto _the leaves –_ and inhales deeply.

>>>

While enjoying their hot brew they talk easily. It seems that, ever since the Grimm tore down a few of Renard's inherent self-defence mechanisms and showed him that for once he can let down his guard, a lot of their past distance has melted away. Sean Renard will never be one to unravel completely or to make a fool of himself but Nick is deeply gratified to find his boss, his... what... acquaintance... engage in their conversation with quiet delight.

The Prince's cellphone ringing ends their little get together.

He looks at the caller-ID, gaze turning inscrutable and maybe the slightest bit wistful. Is this normally distant man saddened to interrupt their time?

Somehow this makes Nick feel warm inside. He knows it is damn hard to get past the zauberbiest's shields. That he should have managed to do so is a revelation and a gift he does not intent to throw away.

“I am sorry. I have to get this one.”

“No problem. Thank you for the coffee. I'll just let myself out. See you tomorrow, Sir.”

Renard inclines his head – a small apologetic smile showing – before he takes the call and disappears into his home office. The Grimm gazes after him marvelling at how things have developed over the last weeks. Two months prior this deeply suspicious, formidable man would never have left him alone in his home. Shaking his head and smiling to himself he changes one last thing about the room before letting himself out of the flat like he said he would.

>>>

Upon re-entering his living room he finds it deserted and yet filled with evidence of Nick's presence. There's his empty mug for one....

And there is a book placed upon the coffee table and are three leaves of burnished red, bright orange and warm yellow, set atop as if a gentle breeze has carried them there.

The title of the book is 'cycle of nature – seasonal poems of spring, summer, fall and winter'.

A soft laugh escapes him as he gazes down upon his Detective's work. He has forgotten that he even possessed this book... it has been a long time since he's last read it.

_I should have known, though, shouldn't I? If anyone were to spot such a minute detail it would be my Grimm Detective._

He doesn't disturb the arrangement in any way, just sits down on his couch and looks at this small piece out of a sea of fiery colours... and at Nick's handiwork.

>>>

His housekeeper seems to like his newest item of fall decoration, too, for every time those leaves show signs of withering new ones are fetched and placed upon the book. At some point a candle of tasteful chocolate colour joins the assembly.

Sean doesn't say anything about it. He decides to simply enjoy the sight and gift a certain Grimm has bestowed upon him.

 

Day 42 (November, 8th):

The air is cool and crisp, a morning made for outdoor activity. Running has always been an essential part of his spare time activities. No matter how little time there's been between Police and Grimm work Nick has always found a way to squeeze in a bit of running.

With the incentive of doing a marathon, of course, the Grimm has stepped up his pensum immensely.

His route – approximately 9.5 miles as per his training plan – takes him along forest tracks, suburban parts similar to Monroe's living area and of course Portland's busy spots. The layout of his way varies slightly every time but a point that he never fails to hit upon is a nondescript street that runs along a certain multistory building, which conveniently contains his Captain's condo.

Today he has altered his route slightly, not having it approach its final part by Renard's place but rather begin there. Today Nick has a plan. He takes out his cellphone about 10 minutes of running distance to Renard's place.

>Come run with me?<

He has to wait for some time before a beeping sound heralds a new message. He has anticipated this – thus the stretch of way until he reaches his destination.

>Why?<

Of course Renard would ask this. 8 minutes to go.

>Weather is perfect for running.<

>I have never participated before. What makes you think I would now?<

>You know how the saying goes: Just because you haven't done it before...<

He's curious if the Prince remembers. 6 minutes.

>... don't let that keep you from trying it out.<

Nick cannot help grinning like a Cheshire cat.

>You see. Anyway, what about being supportive?<

>Going to the event and actually cheer you on counts as supportive as far as I am concerned.<

He can practically hear the waspish drawl when reading the word _cheer_. 4 minutes left.

>Maybe. But running with me would be better. Going to do some HIT today<

>No guns involved hopefully....<

>Not hit as in 'hitman'. HIT... high intensity training. You get to snap at me and order me around. Whip me into shape so to speak.<

>I can do that at work, you know? Perks of being the commanding officer.<

Imagining Renard's carefully guarded but still ostentatiously smug expression – an effect heightened by his aristocratic features – makes Nick equal parts irritated and giddy at the challenge. 2 ½ minutes.

>Yeees. But you could use this opportunity to get outdoors for a bit. I know you have three meetings with stuffy politicians scheduled for today. Come on, you want to do this.<

1 minute.

>Don't presume to know what I want.<

_Uuh, oh, cool aloofness is oozing from this text!_

Nick puts his cellphone away and turns around the corner to Renard's home. Now it's time to see, if his persuasion skill are any good.

 

The man leans against one of the building's support pillars, arms crossed in front of his chest, adorned in running clothes of undeniably high end quality – an unobtrusive shadow in early morning twilight.

Nick cannot hide a broad grin as he approaches. There are no words, only two sets of eyes meeting – silent communication – then the zauberbiest falls into step beside him.

>>>

Sean Renard is a right bastard of a task master! It's safe to say that his Detective's training that day is intense, gruelling and planned to perfection. The Grimm loves it. He couldn't be more happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know, if Renard possesses a cream coloured couch? Frankly, no. Do I want him to have one for story purposes. Yes.  
> This was their fall time. Winter will follow soon with more fluff but also quite a bit of Hurt/ Comfort and taking care. ;)


	2. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Winter season brings not only changeful weather but more than enough opportunities for the boys to take care of each other.
> 
> By the way, I made it so that between November and December Sean moved into his house.... although that is earlier than in the series.

 

**Winter:**

 

Day 51 (November, 17th):

 

It's raining cats and dogs – a description that has never been more apt. Nick is drenched – most likely down to his underwear – but far from defeated. He's been running for over an hour now and is feeling great! Of course, big part of his elation at running around in rain and cold stems from a Grimm's nearly indestructible constitution. Really, he has found that ever since growing into his heritage (and being turned into a zombie) bad weather is not a problem anymore.

So trainers squelching, clothes clinging he takes his beeping cell out of it's waterproof satchel and grins at the message he reads.

>You are soaked. Want to come up?<

>Brilliant observational skills, Sir. Yes, gladly.<

By habit he looks up toward the window of flat 1605 that shows a familiar silhouette. It is eery. Not only does Nick check on his Captain every time he runs past but Renard himself seems to have developed a sixth sense for knowing when he is near. 

Nick has never hid his trice weekly endeavour from him. This is not about spying on the Prince but about protecting him, which in turn means making his presence known. That isn't to say that an outsider would be able to predict time and place of the Grimm's doings. It is more like Renard possesses the key code needed to unravel his schedule.

 

>>>

 

Nick takes the elevator, feeling a little bit sorry for whoever has to mob up the mess his wet attire causes, and finally knocks on the condo's door. 

_Maybe I should start taking stairs instead of the elevator – as altitude training of the different kind. After all, it is frickin' 16 th floor! _

Before he can further consider benefits and disadvantages, though, Renard opens the door. 

As always he poses an impressive sight. Today he is still wearing his light blue dress shirt and dark grey slacks from work and even standing with one hand shoved casually into a pant pocket he is still able to pull off full Captain's mode – inquisitive gaze and all.

… Or would have been if not for that wry smile at taking in Nick's appearance up close. 

 

It looks like the Grimm has gone for a swim instead of a run but apart from all that his cheeks show a healthy colour and it seems as if exercise has caused him to be elated and alert rather than worn down.

 

“You never get cold, do you?” 

Nick has already wriggled out of his trainers and follows promptly when beckoned in by a welcoming sweep of the older man's hand.

“Ever since dear Eric had me zombified, nope.”

He speaks of this part of their history wholly unconcerned and yet both know how difficult it all has been for the Grimm. What Sean's half-brother has done has not only encompassed physical harm but also meant coming to terms with the fact that while zombified he has killed a man. The Prince for his part is well aware of how long Nick has been haunted by that, no matter how harsh his own first response to his Detective's struggle has been.

They do not go further into detail about any of this, however. Like so many other aspects it has shaped not only who they have become but also who they are to each other and they take it in stride for all it is worth. It is their way, it is survival and it means acknowledging something that is fast growing into friendship without diminishing its importance.

 

“I suggest you take a shower. I will find you something to wear in the meantime.”

“Yes, Sir! Who am I to disobey such an order?... By the way, do I get coffee afterwards?”

Renard crosses his arms in front of his chest while raising an eyebrow.

“You say that as if you should be rewarded for something.”

“Reward for following orders?” The Grimm's gaze turns adorably hopeful. Not that Sean lets any fondness crack his impassive mask. 

“Obeying your superior should be a given not something to be awarded.”

The smooth drawl turns mock stern as his impossibly tall zauberbiest Captain cocks his head slightly as if waiting for a challenge to his words.

_Uh, oh, that cool, controlled tone. I know that one... from all the times Hank and I have been in trouble.... Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound...._

“If we were at work I would agree but we are not at work so I think coffee for following orders is a fair deal.”

There's a teasing spark again lighting up grey eyes. He really likes exchanging witticisms with Renard.

“Do not be too sure of that. And in case you haven't noticed, Detective, you are dripping, so off to the bathroom with you. I believe you know where it is located.” 

The Captain sneers but an amused glint in green eyes belies any sharp words.

 

>>>

 

After shower it's coffee and a chat again (if one really were up to calling any conversation with Sean Renard a  _chat_ ). Holding his mug with both hands Nick practically buries his nose in the black liquid. It is quite amusing to watch the Grimm try to inhale as deeply as possible to experience each and every nuance of its smell.

“I would kill for this coffee...!”

Nick nearly moans and trails off sheepishly once he has run that back over in his head. The royal 'biest just chuckles looking relaxed and at ease.

“If I remember correctly you called coffee a substance of true evil....”

“Jup. And if memory serves right you said one should go all the way if he were to commit a sin. You see, I am not only following orders but listening and learning as well.”

There's a playfulness about his Grimm that Sean hasn't experienced before but likes very much.

 

 

Day 85 (December 21st):

 

Nick stares after an expensive car that speeds out of PPD's parking lot, helpless frustration churning in his guts. 

“Trying to kill him with a look won't make him go to jail, partner.... Which is a true pity.” 

This is Hank stepping up beside him and shooting his own dark glare at the quickly receding car. His tone is unusually fierce. He is as disturbed by their case as his partner. 

“Not that I cannot understand your sentiment.... Would like to get a few moments alone with that bastard myself but sadly we are out of this.”

The Grimm heaves a heavy sigh. 

“Yes, we are.” He clenches hands into fists trying to come to terms with the fact, that a man, who may not have committed an actual murder but has shown depravity of sickening extent, can walk free while another one goes to jail.

This case has been a twisted one:

A young man of 17 has been driven to murder by manipulation of the worst kind! His stepfather, Cole Miller, has deceived him into believing that his biological father, one Afram Senner, has wanted to harm the teen's younger sister; has gone on and on manipulating him until the boy has killed his father to protect his sibling from falsely perceived danger! Now Jason will go to prison for a murder he sadly has committed while his stepfather gets out of this with a slap on the wrist and the triumph at having gotten rid of a rival at work. This is all this has been about: Greed, success at work... a family destroyed and a young life ruined. Jason Senner has wanted to protect his loved ones and been lied to in the worst way possible. Now Cole Miller has cut off all ties, saying that he is devastated to learn about his stepson's depravity when in reality he is the depraved mind in all this!

Nick and Hank, they both know the truth and yet they have not been able to prove it. They can only try to lessen the sentence Jason will get but somehow that isn't enough... not nearly enough. 

It is one of those days a Detective questions everything he has learned as a police officer. 

_How is something like this possible?!_

They stand side by side, silence as oppressive as their thoughts.

 

“You want to go hang out at my place?”

Nick shakes his head. Hank means well but somehow this isn't what he needs right now. Not that he is all that sure what it will take to get his emotions back in check. 

“I appreciate the offer but I think I'll go for a run... burn off some steam with good... clean work.”

“You do that, partner. If you change your mind just call. I'm home, anyway.”

Hank does not squeeze his shoulder or anything but his gaze – protective and almost brotherly – says all the Grimm needs to know. It gets the afro-American the ghost of a smile before darker emotions slip back onto his face, gaze already far away again. 

 

>>>

 

Nick runs. He does not care about pacing himself to divide his strength evenly; he does not care about training. The Grimm just wants to loose that painful knot of disbelief, helplessness and anger that threatens to choke him. When he gets to Renard's house this time he doesn't stop, doesn't look or spare a thought to his usual endeavour. Shortly he ponders, if he should make his way home but he isn't feeling any better so he runs on. Maybe he just has to go further than normal to tire himself out. Maybe then his thoughts will stop circling around one and the same question.

 

>>>

 

When the doorbell rings Sean opens his front door to find himself faced with a very different Grimm, indeed. Instead of the usual lively spark a crushing weight seems to reside in those stormy grey eyes. He looks dishevelled in a way that points to training of much higher intensity. Nick pants, head pulled between his shoulders slightly, chest heaving with explosive breaths. Still his Detective radiates agitation along with vague vibes of aggression most likely stemming from pure helplessness.

 

To some extent Renard knows the cause for Nick's frustration. Of course he does. After all he is his Captain and aware of how his latest case has ended.

“Why don't you come in.” He keeps his tone low and smooth as if he intents to calm a wild, frightened animal – and maybe he isn't that far off the mark with that. Nick steps inside with barely a nod of greeting. The Prince takes it in stride. He knows it is not his aim to be rude; he just isn't aware of such things right now.

“You've run much farther than usual, haven't you?”

Nick is still panting, coiled tight as a spring.

“Yes.”

“How much farther?”

“Nearly twice my usual round.”

_So that makes for a length of just above 20 miles. It seems today Nick does not tire by normal standards... or rather his mind won't let him do so._

“Has it helped?”

No words, just a jerky head shake. The half-zauberbiest regards him thoughtfully. He notices his Detective's tension, the way he holds himself, the way his hands clench and unclench in an unconscious attempt to get frustration and anger out of his system. 

Nick for his part is all too aware of his Captain's scrutiny. He knows he needs to let go of all those negative emotions – thus the elongated running course – but he cannot seem to do so. It's like a fire is burning in the pit of his stomach. It eats at him and he is unable to stop it because, hell, he just cannot get his head around how anybody can be such a sick bastard!

A hand on his wrist startles him. His head jerks up from where he has listlessly stared at the floor. Renard's questing gaze draws him in. He cannot look away and has the feeling that this man sees so much more than just what lies out in the open.

“Come on, Nick. Follow me.” 

Nick does so, without question or protest. It makes clear to the Prince how much the Grimm trusts him and how bad his latest case has thrown him. He makes his way downstairs where his private gym is located. Next to different work out applications there is a wide space cushioned with thin mats, which allows for sparring and for training different forms of hand-to-hand combat.

“Pull off your socks and hoodie. They will only be a hindrance for what I have in mind.” 

Nick gaze turns questioning but he complies after a moment or two. Renard mirrors his motions, divesting of his own sweatshirt and socks. That done he disappears into another room, only to re-emerge clad in a dark t-shirt and training sweat pants. 

Stepping into the middle of the open area Renard turns around slowly until he is fully facing his Detective. He has the fluid grace and physique of a seasoned warrior born and trained to fight. Sharp green eyes lock with Nick's grey ones as he beckons him with a slight gesture of his hand.

“How about a sparring match for training purposes?” 

Nick hesitates. His emotions and thoughts are in turmoil. 

 

In the end he gives in. His own approach hasn't worked. Why not give himself over into his Captain's capable hands? If there is anyone knowing about how to exert control it is the zauberbiest Prince.

The Detective steps up to face his superior, stance adapting to combat mode instinctively. Once again Renard mirrors his actions, adjusting his posture just slightly. 

 

>>>

 

At first Nick checks in his true strength. He fights with his head instead of relying on instinct alone. He is not ready to let go, yet, Sean can see that clearly. Time to get to the bottom of this and help Nick free himself from what is weighing so heavily on his mind. 

“Tell me, Nick, what is the matter? What has you bottling up all that frustration?” 

Renard asks as he matches the Grimm's attacks step by step, not giving any opening himself. 

By the time Nick starts talking Renard has thrown him onto his ass more times than he can count and he has a few more bruises to show for his trouble. Whatever he does his Captain is faster, more in control, has better aim. Anger builds within him as they continue sparring, boiling over when he really thinks about his bosses' question. 

 

“Despite working homicide for years now... I cannot believe how someone can sink so low as to manipulate his own... his own  _stepson_... into killing his biological father!”

Nick's movements become quicker, his coordination better. The Grimm comes forth Sean can feel it.

“To use someone's instinct to protect his family... to make him think that his father wanted to harm his little sister... to get him to  _murder_  his father... when the man is innocent and his stepfather the true monster... just because of some job rivalry... that is just so sick!!”

 

Finally Nick breaks away from all restraints. Fighting him is intense! His Detective burns off anguish and bitter thoughts – a cleansing fire leaving him bare and his instincts laid open. When Renard meets him in combat now he has to use every ounce of strength and concentration. 

Seeing this man reach his full potential is an amazing sight, indeed. Seeing him let go of his hurt is even more gratifying, though. 

“What makes you most angry about that? Come on, tell me.” 

His tone is sharp. An attack meant to draw out those poisonous emotions just like punches and kicks draw out responding attacks.

 

“He is only 17 for God's sake!! And he will go to jail for murder while that sick bastard gets off scot-free and lets his stepson drop like trash! How can we let that happen?”

Nick's attacks are a blurr of motion now, every single twist and flick of his body driven to perfection by the Grimm unleashed.

The Prince of Portland works him to exhaustion. Only when Nick has poured out everything – strength wise and emotionally – does he stop him. A few months back Sean has seen only a capable subordinate, a Grimm in the making, an ally. Now he sees a friend who has needed his help. He steps up to the smaller man, who is panting in earnest now and utterly sweat soaked, and puts his hands on his shoulders. 

“Better now?”

Slowly Nick raises his head to meet his gaze. There's still sadness there but less resignation and hurt.

“I... think so.” A hoarse whisper wrought with emotion but also with sincerity. 

“Good.” A small proud smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“Take a shower, Nick. You look done in. Just go through the door I used earlier. I am sure I can find you some clothes in the meantime.”

 

>>>

 

Both of them will have some spectacular bruises come tomorrow and most likely a serious case of sore muscles but still their workout has healed something within the Grimm. 

When he steps out of the bathroom, clad in a fresh set of clothes, Sean leads him back to the living room and makes him sit down on the sofa. Nearly as soon as he hits the cushions he drops off into an exhausted sleep just as his Captain has hoped he would. 

 

Hours later upon waking a small measure of peace has re-entered his being. 

At first they only sit in companionable silence before they begin to have a quiet conversation. 

When Nick leaves that day Sean halts him with a gentle hand on his forearm. He turns back around to look up into his Captain's eyes. They are serious but holding something akin to a promise.

“We will do our best to ensure that Jason Senner gets a mild sentence.... And we will look again into proving Miller's involvement. He won't get off lightly. We will make sure. We just need more time and effort.”

“Yes.... Yes, we will.” 

A hard glint has entered Nick's eyes. Oh, yes, he certainly is back into the game. Sean sees this and is gratified that he's been able to help... his trusted ally... his friend.

 

 

Day 110 (January, 15th):

 

Nick is running. He is still in high spirits... and cold... really, really cold like no self-respecting once zombified Grimm should be... ever! Time to call or rather text his lifeline.

>Cup of HOT tea?<

>Cannot see you anywhere, yet.<

>You will in about 4 minutes... it  _is_  quite chilly outside.< 

>Thought you are a Grimm and do not get cold.<

>Thought so, too. That was before Portland got snowed in.<

>Do come up. Don't want to explain to precinct why you froze to death under my watch.<

>Surely you have enough henchmen to cart me off to some other place.<

>Now that you mention it....< Nick rounds the final corner, making his way further along the street. There's only a moment's pause, then another beep.

>Wonder when you will run into a lamppost.<

>Why?<

>Because you are texting, not watching the way.<

>I am a Grimm.<

>And that makes you invincible to lampposts how?<

Nick practically hears the disbelieving emphasize on the last word.

>Above average awareness, speed and coordination.< Is his cocky reply. 

Nick's ego soon gets a damper, though:

>You mean that kind of awareness, speed and coordination that made you slip up on an empty bottle lying around and in the process break your elbow and sprain your ankle?<

How to give a dignified response to that? Another beep indicating a new message.

>After you had already sprained our ankle once before, only a month prior.... By tumbling down a slope.<

That man really knows how to rub it in! Time to change track and get back to important matters.

>Sooo... can I come up now? It's freezing out here.<

>Invincible Grimm, you are changing the topic and complaining too much. Less texting more movement.<

 

>>>

 

“So, are you able to get cold, after all, or do your hands look like popsicles only by chance?”

“Uuuhuuh.” Frankly Nick doesn't really care to what he agrees, if it gets him hot tea (or delicious AND hot coffee) fast and in great quantities! Renard's peevish scowl tells him that the man isn't impressed with his answer so he tries again... the work one has to put in to get a decent cup of hot brew.

“Jup. Do get cold. Now, pleeeaaase, can we make me get warm again?” 

He has never tried puppy-Grimm-eyes on his Captain before but desperate situations call for desperate measures!

 

>>>

 

Nick is bundled up in a thick woollen throw rug, his feet clad in equally thick warm socks (two sizes too large but who cares... it's socks!) and tugged under him on the couch. He is through his second mug of coffee... yes, coffee after all....

In other words he is one very happy Grimm!

 

 

Day 152 (February, 26th):

 

>Come run with me?< 

He is certain of the answer before Renard's text comes in. It isn't even that he counts on running with the man this evening. To be honest, he's already finished today's training round. It's more like an opening. A pretence to approach him.

>Not today.<

Because, you see, it's just been one of those days. Over the course of the last week their Captain has been a constant presence at precinct. Arriving before everyone else and leaving long after computers have been shut down and places been vacated. Nick has tried – subtly – to get the man to at least take one or the other lunch break but overall their Captain has worked himself into quite a state. 

Those who know him well – namely those who been at the force for decades along with a few notable exceptions like Hank, Wu and Nick – have learned what to expect after such times. 

It's those days when Renard gets close mouthed and generally even more reclusive than he normally is. It's those days when he wants to snap at anybody in the vicinity but is too polite, too much in control to show it. They know, they keep away from him about anything that isn't either dead important or dead  _and_  important... and everybody who doesn't is diverted by Chamber Master Wu.

 

It's one of those days when their robust, practically unshakable commander suffers from a migraine attack of epic proportions. 

 

>One of those days?<

>Meaning?<

>Migraine?<

>How d< Apparently this one wasn't meant to be sent just yet. Oh, yes, Sean is in quite a state, if he accidently sends unfinished messages.

>May I come up? You seem like you could use a hand.<

There's a long pause. Of course there is. It's something Nick has learned early on. Once he's asked some question pertaining anything which would make Sean show weakness – his thinking, not Nick's – there's careful consideration of all implications and repercussions before an answer is granted. 

>You may.<

 

>>>

 

The blinds are not drawn, making him wonder why. If there is one thing helping lessen the ache of a migraine it is shutting out light. 

_Maybe he wanted to be able to see me should I get here? That would be quite a concession considering how he feels._

Renard hasn't bothered with long greetings. Has just opened the door before retreating back into the flat, Nick following like a shadow. 

“You don't look like you've taken any medicine so far.” 

It is a tentatively made observation at seeing the man's carefully closed off expression and his stiffly erect posture. Inexplicably he is standing instead of sitting. Why, the Grimm can't be sure. They know each other long enough by now to forego formalities such as remain standing until the other has taken a seat.

In answer to his silent question Sean quietly says:

“There is an important call I yet need to take.”

 

_Ah. So that explains why he hasn't taken anything and cannot seem to settle down. To be honest he looks like he **should**  sit down least he collapses._

 

Still, it is always a walk on a knife's edge how to treat the proud zauberbiest on the rare occasion that he isn't at his best. He stands in front of floor length windows, looking out at dusk and first city lights although it must hurt his eyes to do so. 

The Grimm makes a decision, going to the bathroom, finding and wetting a wash cloth, before returning to his Captain's side. He waits for him to take note of his presence, silently offering the rag when Sean turns around.

 

At first Renard says nothing, just eyes the thing in Nick's hand with a sneer and a raised eyebrow.

“Do I look in any way dirty to you?”

_Here we go, snappishness to hide his pain._

“No Sean, you look like you are going to throw up any moment now from being in too much pain. So if you have to take that call and cannot take meds before there's nothing to be done about that. But while you wait, why don't you sit down, close your eyes and put that cloth on your head? It isn't much but it may help a little bit. Remember I have seen you in a far worse state, there's no need to keep up any pretence. That isn't why I've come up, anyway.... to have you pretend that you are fine when you are not.”

 

The last one was a blow to Sean's pride – Nick knows that – but a necessary one to bring the zauberbiest around to thinking rationally. He holds the Prince's withering stare, not relenting in the least until slowly the tall, proud man takes the damp cloth from him and walks over to an armchair. Once there he sits down and leans back, still holding himself tensely, but at least he puts the rag over his eyes and forehead.

 

>>>

 

The phone call is taken care of. He has taken his tablets. The Grimm is still there, silent sentinel in his home.

 

He feels side effects first – always when taking medication for a migraine attack – but that is okay because it means that in approximately half an hour the desired effect will come to bear.

It is always the same:

Paraesthesia, otherwise known as pins and needles in his hands and arms, light-headedness, at least to some extend, and weakness. He breathes deeply, slowly and controlled. He holds himself upright, not yet willing to give in to his body's limitations.

The Grimm is near. He knows this but for some reason he doesn't approach. It makes him twitchy and feeling on edge while unbeknownst to him it is the selfsame feeling of uncertainty that has his Detective staying away.

Nick has an idea how to help Renard but he isn't sure at all, if he will let him. He has some experience in handling the man's moods and defensive nature but this is still largely unknown terrain for them both. 

After debating with himself for some time he scrapes his courage together and makes his way over to his boss. 

_Now how to go about this? Come on, Burkhardt, just get your act together! You weren't this nervous minutes ago! But that wasn't the same, was it? That was about washing his head not about... oh well...._

 

“Do you want to... well... do you want to lean back? You could lean against... my....” Despite best intentions he trails off unsure. 

Renard opens his eyes in a glare and snaps at his Detective, tone fairly dripping acid: “Lean against what?! Honestly, you sound like some teenage school girl! If next you're going to ask for a date I'll laugh as soon as my head stops pounding like mad.” 

 

Nick bodily recoils taken aback by Sean's unfair words despite having half expected a negative response. He retorts in an angry whisper still mindful of the Prince's headache:

“Okay, fine. Just leave it! I was going to ask you to lean against me because that's easiest way to give you a damn massage and I was stammering like a school girl because even after all this time... after becoming friends, I didn't know, if a certain pig-headed Prince would be comfortable with such contact! Sorry for being considerate, I'll stop that nonsense at once!”

The Grimm storms off to stand in front of floor length windows, looking anywhere but at Renard. Heavy silence descends over the pair.

 

_I've made a total fool of myself! I should never have offered to do anything other than fetch that glass of water and give him the cloth. I should have known that the mighty zauberbiest is just above such things, if it isn't a life and death situation!!_

 

For a long time the only sound in the room is their breathing.

 

“Nick.” 

That voice – quiet, a bit raw and for once not oozing self-confidence – does not fit the Captain at all. Nick whirls around at hearing the sound of his name so close by. His stance is defensive and his expression angry and hurt, although he tries to hide the last bit. 

Seeing the tall zauberbiest standing in front of him soothes a tiny part of the turmoil of uncertainty, embarrassment and anger in him. Renard looks terrible! His posture is for once hunched over instead of proudly erect, his face lined with pain and he squints against fading light from outside in order to meet his forbidding gaze. 

Nick knows without a doubt, coming over toward him has been one hell of trip for the Prince and he's hurting worse than ever.

“Being in pain makes me get snippy... to put it lightly.” 

Nick is moved despite himself. This hasn't been easy for Renard.

“Why are you even standing? That's a stupid thing to do when suffering from a migraine attack.”

A snort, a heavy wince. Squeezing his eyes shut as another episode of pain hits. A deep, controlled intake of breath. 

“Oh, thank you.” The tiniest bit of amused sarcasm shines through.

“Come on. As I said, standing is a stupid thing to do in your state.”

This time the Grimm doesn't ask for permission. He takes his big, deadly zauberbiest by the elbow and leads him back to the couch. Once there Sean finds himself gently but firmly pushed down until he's sitting. Again he cannot help but marvel at the Grimm's ability to see past people's weaknesses – to forgive them their mistakes. 

Closing his eyes he listens to footsteps that are barely there. Another thing that shows the man's consideration. From one or the other precinct party (yes, he does attend those) he knows that Detective Burkhardt can move rather loudly, if he wants to.

 

Warm hands – placed carefully on his forehead and against the line of his jaw – make him twitch the tiniest bit in surprise as they slowly pull his head back until he is, indeed, resting against something firm yet yielding that can only be Nick's muscled stomach. 

 

He wants to say something, wants to open his eyes to gauge the Grimm's mood but in that moment the hands move from his face to the crown of his head – bury there and start eliciting the most incredible sensations as they massage and rub.

Maybe a moan of profound relief escapes him, he isn't sure. He only feels vibrations of a soft laugh rumble through the body he's leaning against. 

 

“Aunt Marie used to suffer such attacks. I learned early on. … I wanted to make it better because she made me feel better when I was sick although she always said she wasn't the mothering type.”

Those quiet words, they are the only explanation he gives for the wonders he works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see, lots of care taking... and coffee...


	3. Interlude: Socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended the next chapter to be 'Spring' but then wonderful MortuisRegina came along and raised the very validate question: Where do the Captain's clothes go? And where do Nick's clothes stay? (To add my own question to the mix... ^^)
> 
> So now there will be one or the other interlude featuring exactly that.  
> This is set between January and February, so after 'Nick wants to get warm' and before 'Sean's migraine from hell'.  
> Have fun!

 

Interlude Socks (between January 15th and February 26th):

 

>I noticed at home that I didn't take off your socks before leaving, when do you want them back?<

>What do you mean, you didn't notice? Didn't it strike you as peculiar that it took you all of ten minutes to get into your trainers upon leaving that day?<

>Wrote that off to 'pop-sicling' my fingers earlier. You could have said something, you know?<

>Please, refrain from inventing new words. There are enough out there to express what you want. And I like to observe my Detectives' problem solving skills in the field from time to time.<

>Double-haha. You just like to see me struggle.<

>If I did, I would have made you wait outside that day or have withheld coffee for a longer amount of time after you attempted to go all puppy-eyed on me.<

>You say that now. You simply couldn't resist me.<

A pause, another message from the Grimm.

>Apropos resisting: When and where do you want to get your socks back?<

>I don't know. You could give them to me at precinct... in front of everyone.<

_Uuh, ohh, sarcasm spread as thick as butter on a scone. Well... choosing not to hear that ironic avalanche might be fun._

_> Okay.<_

_> >>_

“Hey, Wu!”

Nick is just in the process of heeding out to interview some witnesses together with Hank but he has one last mission to complete beforehand. The Sergeant turns to face him, raised eyebrow and wryly quirked lips already in place.

“What can Master Wu do for you?”

Nick chuckles and shakes his head.

“Stop rhyming and catch this.”

He throws a small bundle at the Asian, which upon catching turns out to be a pair of thick woollen socks. He stares at it in askance before focusing his inquisitive gaze back upon the Grimm.

“Can you give those to the Captain for me? He wanted them back.”

The general noise level rises at this declaration, some of them thinking that this is a prank, some of them wondering why Dt. Burkhardt is in possession of a pair of Captain Renard's socks and if it is realistic at all, that their always impeccably clothed superior should own something like this.

“Errr, Nick....”

Before Wu can say anything else Nick is already halfway out of the room but by the doors he turns back one last time.

“Thanks for doing this for me, you are a true friend. Oh, and be sure to tell him, they are freshly laundered but sadly not ironed. There wasn't time for that.”

And just like that Nick exits precinct's main office and hurries after his partner.

When he reaches the car where Hank is already waiting he receives a message on his phone:

>Dead man.<

>Wise man, who is out investigating today... all of today. Next time you want to go all sarcastic on me send a voice message instead of a text.<

>I cannot say I am amused.<

>Spoil sport.<

>It was work.<

>It was socks and you asked for that one.<

>>>

Needless to say, the next two and a half weeks Nick is not allowed to visit Renard at home. That man can hold a grudge longer than a harpy. He is well aware that he has hurt Renard's pride and put his defensive mechanisms to a test but his royal zauberbiest also needs to learn that sarcasm is something that can hurt and backfire. But Nick makes amends. He doesn't apologize in words but by throwing himself into work with fervour, going beyond and above what is required from a Detective.

 

He wants to show his boss and friend that their private relationship will not interfere with work. At work Sean is still his Captain and Nick is a dedicated Detective, who does heed his superior's orders, occasional exception none withstanding. The Grimm will never treat him with anything other than respect at work but that doesn't mean that a friend (and sometimes even a Captain) will not on occasion be subjected to a bit of good natured ribbing.

 

Renard for his part is a master in the art of silently showing his disapproval. At work he is clipped and aloof to the Grimm, not so much so that anyone else would notice but in fine undertones meant to let Nick and Nick alone feel his displeasure. In private there is no communication at all.

 

Nick takes it all in stride. He works, he jogs and checks up on his Prince as a silent sentinel and after some time – when he doesn't really expect it anymore – Renard asks if he wants to come up for coffee after finishing his round.

 

Despite his patience in waiting there is the slight fear that things will be awkward now, but somehow, when they meet at the door, there is a glint of something soft in the shrewd zauberbiest's eyes and without intending to they have managed to tear down another wall.

It is a lesson well learned: You can hurt, you can go wrong or be wronged but you can also forgive. It is what friends and family do, they fight and then they make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the socks, which leaves us with a total of two complete attires of either Sean and Nick. Well, what does our Grimm do with those overlong sweaters of his Captain?


	4. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Especially for shadowolfhunter and freshly out of my head: Our boys in care bear mode! :DDD  
> What can I say, spring seems to put them in a cosy mood.  
> Oh, a note on the whole marathon and training bit: I try to keep this on the realistic side but I have never run a marathon so I am going by what I've found on the theme.

 

**Spring:**

 

Day 168 (March, 14th):

 

The day dawns cold and rainy, really not the kind of weather you want to be running around in. And yet Nick is excited by the prospect of heeding out into the woods to do some HI-training... with Renard. It is Saturday and in contrast to their many other meetings this one has been pre-scheduled.

Apparently it's been fun for the Royal to _whip Nick up into shape_ because when he's asked him some time ago, if he would like to repeat the experience, Sean has not needed to think about it all that long.

As is his habit to downplay things like these he's said he's doing it mostly for the benefit of the station and yet there's been a nearly imperceptible smile softening aristocratic features when he's agreed to meet off duty. It has also been the first time Nick has asked anything pertaining their private activities at the station... only in front of Hank and in the safety of Renard's office, of course, which the man has seemed to be okay with.

By now Hank, Monroe and Rosalee know about the peculiar thing between them (that one may as well call friendship) anyway, so Nick is relatively sure that he hasn't been overstepping a line by asking with his partner present.

Looking out of the window at incessant rain pouring down the Grimm worriedly ponders, if Renard is still willing to heed outside. Of course, he could run alone, if the Prince declines to meet but.... He heaves a sigh. There's only one way to find out.

>Still up for doing HIT in the woods despite torrential rain and temperatures barely above 40°F?<

>I did read the weather forecast. There's no backing out now, Detective.<

Nick actually laughs when reading Renard's answer, not able to keep a broad grin from showing. Oh well, he's alone in the privacy of his home so who is going to be the wiser if he gets excited over running around outside in wind and rain... with Sean.

>Not intending to back out, just checking. I'll be by in 20 minutes.<

>>>

They are both leaning over Sean's cellphone, shielding it from rain with their heads and looking at the course Nick will be taking. It spans about 3 miles and goes along various forest tracks, alternating in height and terrain to pose more of a challenge to the eager Grimm.

“This is HI-training of a different kind but I wager it will be to your liking. You will do one round as specified on my cell, then we will have a sparring match, then it is another round and we will go from there.”

Sean looks up from the screen and finds his suspicion confirmed for the Grimm is practically bubbling with energy wanting to be spent even while droplets of rain fall from his longish bangs and his thin running shirt clings wetly to his body. The zauberbiest snorts and shakes his head.

“You seem ridiculously pleased to be mucking about in bad weather.”

Nick shrugs unconcernedly.

“Grown men do need to burn off energy now and then.”

“And you don't do that when working cases?... Or when investigating Grimm related matters? I would not have thought that you need of any more excitement. Anyway, we cannot dawdle all day, so tell me, how long is your current running course and what time do you need to complete it. I will take your time but I need something to reference on.”

The Grimm ponders the question for a moment.

“Mostly I do 15,5 miles and it takes me about 1 hour and 50 minutes to finish that.”

“Are you satisfied with that time or do you aim to go faster still? If not we can use that time as reference for your laps today.”

“I think that's about it. I may be ambitious but it is my first marathon so I think pacing myself to reach approximately 3,5 hours in total will be challenge enough.”

“Very well.”

His Captain does some equations in his head before nodding to himself and telling him what time it should take him to complete a 3 mile course. Then it is finally time to start.

>>>

Renard waits for his Detective with his arms crossed in front of his chest and clad in a thick water repellent parker. Later when Nick returns he will shed that, of course, but there is no reason let himself get drenched in the meantime.

 

When the Grimm approaches at a fast jog some time later Sean gets rid of his jacket, readies his stop watch and steps into the middle of the clearing they have picked for this purpose.

“19 minutes, 48 seconds. Go a little slower next time. And now, on to our sparring match.”

Nick takes few seconds to adept to the new task, further regulating his breathing, jogging lightly on the spot and finally moving into fighting stance to mirror his superior.

He is wet, he feels his heart beating at a fast pace in his chest, he is exhilarated to do more. To fight, to pit his own strength against Sean's and to continue training. They go from waiting and running to sparring effortlessly, both focusing on the other's motions and attacks in complete concentration. A timer is set to go off after 5 minutes and will end their match.

The Prince watches his Grimm closely. He has gone against the younger man on more than one occasion now and has seen him fight up close only a few months prior. Every time it has been a different experience:

There has been anger, so much righteous anger and hurt that first time when they've met in the woods over a key and over secrets revealed. He has seen Nick fight in a life and death situation in September when he has given everything to save a man, who has up to that point not always had his best interests in mind.

In November there's been crushing sadness paired with desperation when he has forced Nick to release what was vexing him.

And then there is today. Nick's eyes are alive with elation and show a thirst to fight, to prove himself, that is as much his innate desire to excel as it is a Grimm's thrill to fight. They are fairly even matched. In contrast to last time Sean doesn't egg his partner on. This is a fight for training purposes only and yet it is intense.

Even as rain is still pelting down on them – having drenched Renard as well by now – Nick feels alive with the excitement and exertion of their movements countering each other. His fist is met by a forearm, a kick by a responding block. Sean doles out a series of quick punches which Nick parries with skill but far from effortlessly. This isn't easy. Sparring with Sean Renard is a heavy bit of work!

He isn't unappreciative of the view that poses itself, though. The half-zauberbiest looks magnificent in action. For the first time Nick really takes note of this – not distracted by anger, fear or a haze of other negative emotions. His movements are fluid, controlled, precise....

It is this single moment when Nick focuses not on what the Prince does but how he looks doing it that is literally his downfall! One moment he throws a punch, the next his arm is grabbed and his weight shifted.

He can do nothing as the big, powerful man exercises an impressive cast over his shoulder, which lands him squarely on his back in the mud, looking up at the towering 'biest. In the periphery of his hearing a distinct beeping noise goes off.

Renard cocks his head, eyebrow raised, looking unimpressed.

“This is your running time ticking off, Burkhardt. What are you still doing lazing about on your back?”

 _Oh, how that smarts!_ The Captain knows this, of course he does!

“Shit!” He curses under his breath as he realises that the sound has, indeed, been the timer ending their match and starting the count for his second round. He rolls into a crouch, pushes himself up from the ground and gets going without a backward glance. Renard may have gotten the drop on him this time but if there's anything the Grimm is good at, it is adapting quickly.

>>>

Renard doesn't see sense in getting back into his jacket as he waits for Nick to finish his lap. When 15 minutes have passed he starts warming up again – which doesn't help much against rain and cold, but he has to try, doesn't he?

 

He hears muted sounds of running footsteps indicating the Grimm's arrival.

“22 minutes, 33 seconds. Taking away the time you spent on your back instead of running this is a good time.” The Captain's tone is sharp and did Nick mention that the man is a hard task master?

They spar for a second time, both relishing in the opportunity to match their strength and engage in this intense kind of exercise. Blow by blow, kick and punch, they attack and parry! Motions repeat themselves. For a second time that day Nick feels his arm being grabbed. His body is pulled forward and thrown over Renard's own broad back once again.

“Falling for the same trick twice, Detective?”

But this time the Grimm is prepared! On the way down, before he hits the ground, he twists his body in that nearly impossible way Grimms are known to do, lands on hands and feet and suddenly tides have turned.

Renard looks up from the ground after throwing his sparring partner only to find the man rush up from the ground and feel a shoulder ram into his chest with impressive force. He has let his focus slip for a single moment and this time it is Nick, who has seen a chance and grabbed it.

He loses his footing, breath pushed out of him momentarily, then he is lying on the ground – on his back with the Grimm crouching practically on top of him, pressing his wrists to the ground above his head. Both are breathing hard. It could have been a threatening situation, a possibility to abuse power over the other and yet this time Sean does not fear for his life or his dignity.

There is no malice in those stormy grey eyes but the glint of triumph, a challenge paired with mirth and unadulterated joy.

“I don't know what _you_ are doing but _I_ am going to start my third round.”

As if on cue a beep sounds through the air and Nick gets up to take off running at a fast pace. Sean sits up bemusedly, shaking his head at being outwitted by the Grimm. He vows not to let it happen again but still he is impressed. Nick is good – at fighting as well as running. He does not show any signs of wearying and sparring with him is a challenge the battle seasoned zauberbiest enjoys greatly. After a moment or two to catch his breath he gets up, now truly soaked and not getting any warmer, especially as he waits another 20 minutes for Nick's return.

>>>

“You are cold.”

They are driving back toward civilisation in Nick's truck. The Grimm looks out ahead while making this particular observation.

“You are not seeing me shiver, are you?” The tone in which denial is proposed is calm and yet he recognizes Renard's innate pride rearing its head.

“No you are not.” He concedes.

“I know you better by now, though. You may not be shivering but I recognize the way you are holding yourself tensely to repress exactly that and you press your lips together nearly imperceptibly to keep a tremble from showing.”

Anyone else may only have seen an impenetrable mask at that but Nick has learned to read those angular features in almost any situation. The Prince is not happy with him right now. Nick is unimpressed, though.

“My place is nearer and I do have a change of your clothes at home, so why don't you let me take you to my place so you can shower and change? To return a favour so to speak.”

Sean cannot help but be slightly mollified but that doesn't hinder him from tartly replying:

“It is more than one change of clothes and I could may as well wait doing those things until I get home.” He represses another shiver and would have liked to growl in frustration for having to do so.

“Humour me.”

Sean doesn't answer and likes to pretend he isn't affected by Nick's lopsided grin and innocent eyes but it is as they say: By keeping silent they give their assent.

>>>

Nick has let them into his house where Sean is now standing in the middle the living room shivering like mad. Sometime ago while still on their way home the Prince has found that even his impeccable self control is not enough to keep bodily reactions to being cold and wet in check any longer. The heating system of Nick's truck is... old, if one were to put it lightly, and completely defunct, if one were to speak the truth. The infuriating Grimm is not perturbed by that, of course, for Sean has – apart from that one time in winter – never seen him be cold ever since he's been turned into a zombie and back.

Light footsteps indicate Nick coming back with a change of clothes for him and before he can say anything he is manhandled toward the visitor's bathroom in such an inconspicuous way, that anyone less versed in politics and intrigues would have stayed blissfully unaware that such a decision had just been taken out of his hands.

 

His forbidding glare just gets him another innocent look and the assertion that his lips have by now acquired a worrying shade of blue. He stops any protests only because it is Nick doing this and before he knows it the bathroom door closes behind him and the Grimm tells him to take his time showering. The powerful ruler of Portland can only shake his head at such antics.

If he has learned one thing over the course of the last months it's been this: Whoever thinks that Nicholas Burkhardt is incapable of scheming and underhanded tactics is a great fool, indeed. Inexplicably, he likes him even more for it. Maybe because when his Grimm Detective gets into scheming it is rarely to never for self-serving purposes and yet it makes him a more interesting person, gives him depth beyond the outer facade of a dedicated cop.

>>>

Once he hears water starting to flow Nick makes his way back upstairs to change and take a shower himself. Only because he doesn't get cold per se doesn't mean that he enjoys staying in wet clothes. And honestly, despite his much more robust nature, the Grimm is a true hot water addict be that showering or taking a bath.

That done he puts in some work in the kitchen, preparing tea and chicken noodle soup while he's at it.

>>>

Sean lets his head fall forward as hot water in copious amounts pelts down his neck and the expense of his huge frame. He might not admit it out loud but this is heaven! Ever so slowly his limbs warm up leaving him to enjoy the hot spray a few moments longer than strictly necessary. In the private confines of the shower a small smile ghosts over his lips. He knows now, why Nick insisted he should take his time.

_It seems his assertion that he knows me better by now was correct in a way._

Soaking up as much heat as possible and letting his durable zauberbiest nature do the rest he finally makes use of shower gel and shampoo. 15 minutes later he steps out of the bathroom impeccably dressed as always and be that in a warm sweater and track pants instead of his usual suit.

The smell of food wafts over from the kitchen so he makes his way there. The Grimm is in his element, stirring something in a pot with one hand while pouring water from the kettle into a can with the other. While the tea steeps he focuses his attention back to what Sean suspects must be soup of some kind.

A little later he pours tea into a huge mug and heaps enough sugar into it that Sean knows this must be for him. Backbone of his assumption is the old piece of Police wisdom that high amounts of sugar cure anything from too little sleep, to distraught victims, to a case of near hypothermia. It becomes clear by Nick's actions that he believes wholeheartedly in that theory. He might have said something snide about that but his mother has instilled enough politeness in him that he knows someone who shows him kindness shouldn't be criticised unduly.

The sheepish grin when he waves his Captain into a seat and puts said mug in front of him makes it clear that Nick knows the nature of his thoughts, anyway. Still, the stuff inside is hot and after some inner debate Sean decides not to be choosy.

He revises his opinion after taking a first long sip, coughing slightly at the sheer sweetness of the brew.

“I was only meaning well.”

“Do you know how many times words like these have been the start of truly nefarious actions?” That is an ominous tone if Nick has ever heard one!

That insolent Grimm has the gall to chuckle but he is generous or maybe survival orientated enough to take away the mug from hell, tip about half of its contents into the sink and fill it up with more unsweetened tea. This time the displeased Prince takes care to take only a tiny sip to test the waters before drinking more when he is sure that doing this won't kill him. Apparently Nick is content to make do without a word of thanks for he grins and lays the table for two.

“On our menu today, after an aperitif of sugar laden tea, is chicken noodle soup done by the chef.”

Sean scowls at this attempt at humour but the soup does its part to raise his spirits for it is delicious even by a Prince's high standards. Nick for his part is happy to see his zauberbiest Captain be up to shooting death glares again. He may not have told Renard but by the end he has been quite worried for the man. After all, when he's commented on the blueish colour of his lips he hasn't been joking... at all.

>>>

They have retired to the living room where his Detective has practically forced a blanket upon him, taking one for himself as well only to mollify him, he is sure. Anyway, he is warm again, in his hands rests a huge mug of surprisingly high quality coffee and he's having another quiet conversation with a man, who has turned out to become his friend. A thought occurs to him while he listens to Nick telling a tale of how Monroe and he have once got sprayed with an exudate from some skunk like wesen that smelled so bad that Rosalee made them take three showers each along with using some lotion that smelled exactly as bad as any skunk secretion but neutralised what they had been dosed with in the beginning.

“Apropos showers and a change of clothes, will I get back the second set I lend you anytime soon?”

While he waits for Nick's response he takes a long sip from his mug. For some reason the younger man seems reluctant to answer but when he finally does, it is this:

“I've had these clothes for about 3 months now and the only thing you ask is that?… Not what I have done with them in the meantime? I mean, I could have... I don't know... sold them to some creepy Prince-of-Portland-fan-girls!”

Sean prides himself on possessing iron self-control but this one comes so unexpected that he sprays his coffee all over the low table. With a glare he wipes his mouth – still managing to look perfectly dignified while doing so.

“Detective Burkhardt, _are_ there such things as Prince-of-Portland-fan-girls? I dearly hope not.” He sounds abhorred in a way Nick has seldom heard from the controlled zauberbiest while still managing to project the full force of displeased Police Captain. The Grimm, though, has wisely chosen to go and fetch a rag and is only now mobbing up the mess, staying on the opposite side of the table as Renard. Safe is safe, after all.

“Sorry. No, as far as I know there aren't.”

His smile turns from sheepish to mischievous when he goes on:

“I just wanted to give you an example.... But don't worry, at least now I know what I shouldn't do with your clothes under _any_ circumstances... if I value my life, which in fact I do.”

“I am not so sure about that. Some of the things you do both as a Grimm and as my Detective do seem a bit risky at times.”

The dark tone and stern frown make Nick cringe but he is saved from answering when the man himself continues:

“Be that as it may, will you answer my initial question?”

_That isn't better than having to answer the bit about risky actions! Damn the man for his persistence!_

He might have been joking about the fan-girls but his reluctance to answer that particular question still remains.

“Umm....” He is aware that he is fiddling with the rag in his hands and curses himself for not possessing better self-control, but in front of this man – when they are not Captain and Detective or Grimm and Royal but simply friends – he cannot help himself.

“I should take the rag back to the kitchen.” He intents to do just that and hope against better judgement that Renard will have forgotten upon his return but truth is that he doesn't even get so far as the kitchen.

“Nick.”

It is a simple, softly spoken prompt yet it stops the Grimm in his tracks. Sean knows him well by now, too well at times. He has felt the nearly imperceptible shift when banter has turned into a serious matter, something that weighs on his Grimm's mind and is important to him.

When Nick just remains standing in the door frame, motionless and staring down on the rag, Sean tries again:

“What is the matter?” There's no accusation or impatience in his tone but underlying worry. The Grimm sighs. Silence reigns, Sean waits.

“Do you know the significance of comfort food?” This question is spoken in barely a whisper. Whatever this is about, Nick is embarrassed by it.

“Yes, I think I do.”

“Well....” Slowly he turns around, showing the Prince a side of himself that is far more vulnerable than anything he has ever seen in him.

“That sweater.... the one you gave me to wear after the 'Senner' case... has become a kind of equivalent to that... for me....”

Nick trails off, gaze straying back down to the floor, not sure why he even persists. He should give back that thing instead of trying to explain the convoluted workings of his mind to a man, who values control above all else and would never stoop so low as to need such sentimental comfort like this.

“And did you have reason to wear it since?” That velvety voice is so near suddenly, directly in front of him, that Nick jerks back, painfully bumping into the door frame.

“Sorry....” He blushes a deep crimson, not able to stare at anything other than the ground and balling his hands into fists while still grabbing the rag.

_You are so stupid! What are you doing here? First you sound like a sentimental fool and then you jump in fright like 6 year old!_

Never in his life has he been more ashamed and uneasy. He wants to sink into the ground and never reappear. He's a grown man for heaven's sake!

“Nick. Stop that.”

Renard's tone is stern and brooks no argument. What he should stop, though, he cannot fathom. He looks up purely by instinct but what he sees in the taller man's eyes shifts things into perspective:

There is no derision or dark amusement, no sign that he thinks any less of him. Somehow, inexplicably so, Sean Renard understands. They are standing only inches apart, saying nothing, communicating only through their eyes. And those eyes tell the Grimm that he should stop beating himself up over something that is obviously important to him.

The big, always controlled man reaches out slowly, taking Nick's wrist, tugging the slightest bit. He leads them back to the couch, where they sit down by silent agreement.

“Explain it to me.” No order, no force, just a softly spoken request.

It takes some time before Nick can answer. He sits hunched over, one hand kneading the other in nervous agitation.

“That day... you really helped me. I went home – still wearing your sweater – and felt more at peace than I had at any point of that trice cursed investigation. I didn't think anything of it then.” For a while there's silence. Sean waits patiently, knowing that this hasn't been all.

“The next time when I had a difficult case, this being Grimm related and not a homicide case, I went home feeling hollow somehow. At some point that evening I must have pulled on your sweater. It was an instinctual decision, not a conscious one. But ever since... it's been... a source of comfort... when things are bad.”

Nick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. It is not the matter itself that brings out such heavy emotions but the fact that he has revealed something so personal, that he has moved himself into such a vulnerable position, which has him fighting for control. He is coiled as tight as a spring, waiting for an opinion of a man who is stronger than anyone else he knows.

The zauberbiest studies Nick intently while he is still sitting next to him tense and with his eyes closed. He is aware that the Grimm waits, steeling himself for what he assumes will be a crushing verdict.

He waits for Nick to face him again before he speaks up, his tone measured and calm:

“It is true that for myself I would see no sense in wearing a particular article of clothing for comfort. That is neither who I am nor how I have grown up. The only thing I have learned in life is achieving a lighter state of mind by mental discipline and self-control alone.”

He can see, clear as day, that shutters fall, closing off hurt and a part of himself he has laid bare before his Captain, so he pushes on before he can do serious damage:

“But you are different. This is not about a lesser strength of will, far from it. It is about being less detached and cold and more prone to experiencing emotions. The way of a bastard Royal is not necessarily the way for a Grimm who goes against what his ancestors have done for centuries because he wants to end the needless slaying of innocents.”

Sean captures and holds Nick's gaze before he can look away.

“Nick, do you understand, what I want to tell you?”

The younger man tries to get his message, that much is obvious, but uncertainty still weights too heavily on him to think clearly. A wry smile crosses over angular features of the half-zauberbiest.

“I could never live with all those emotions you experience. It would kill me. But that is me and not you. It is not what you need. You need to feel and to show those feelings or attach a certain emotion to an experience just as you did with my sweater. I understand your sentiment. You connect the act of doing one thing with the memory of another... you are associative that way. So in order to achieve a calmer state of mind you bring back a memory of when you have been calm and at peace by committing the act again – in this case wearing a sweater, feeling it's texture and everything else you associate with the memory of wearing it.”

 

Ever so slowly Nick's expression opens up, showing who he is and what he feels again. Sean's half smile shows the beginnings of pride now... pride for his Grimm.

“Your method is vastly different from my own but that doesn't make it... less worthwhile.”

Nick rubs his forehead with the heels of his hands. These past minutes have been an emotional roller-coaster. He stays with his elbows on his thighs and his forehead resting on his hands but when he glances sideways at Sean from behind the heels of his hands a smile is already making an appearance again. Without changing his posture he shakes his head mildly.

“I would never have thought to have such a conversation with you... not back in September and not even this spring. You... continue to surprise me, you know?”

“I certainly try to.” The shrewd Prince answers with a wry smile of his own. There is so much they could say, so much to talk about and yet right now there's no need to talk at all because in moments like these they have learned to take in what's left unsaid as well as what is told.

 

“Do you want another mug of coffee? I made you spill part of the last one and the rest must have gone cold by now.”

“Yes, gladly. Do you want to keep the sweatshirt?”

This gets him a full out mischievous smile, thrown back over his shoulder as the younger man makes his way into the kitchen.

“If you let me.”

“I may be able to live with doing so.”

 

Day 188 (April, 3rd):

 

>You are already on desk duty because of being sick with a cold. Don't get it into your head to do any running today!<

At his desk in precinct Nick noisily blows his nose. Hank is out doing some real investigating, paper work is boring... his head feels heavy and achy.

>Don't worry. No danger of getting anything in else my head... already feels stuffed far beyond its holding capacity. And I didn't intent to do any running today.<

>I know you. So let me rephrase that: If I see you running any time this week I'll put you in a holding cell.<

>You won't see me.<

>NICHOLAS!!<

The Grimm winces as if Renard had really just jelled, then he ducks his head, squints at his over bright cellphone screen and texts back.

>Okay, okay. I solemnly swear that I won't do any training this week.<

>Satisfactory. Say, did you read those Harry Potter books again?<

>Nope. Not this time. This came from the bottom of my heart. Although pausing will throw over my training schedule completely.<

>Whining is an unbecoming treat. You are a Grimm. You will cope.<

From his office Sean can see Nick pull a face, expression somewhere between petulant and chastised.

>Is this our new answer to everything... being a Grimm, I mean?<

>I don't know. You certainly seem to think so on occasion.<

>I'm not that cocky.<

>Really? Re-read your text-messages from 01/15/2014. Start with 'Wonder when...'.<

A pause, another dirty look thrown in his direction. Then scrolling, frowning, more typing.

>I'm sick with a cold. I cannot be held accountable for my actions.<

>You weren't then. Now either go back to your paperwork or better yet head home and get some sleep. You look like you will keel over soon.<

>Won't do that.<

>Keeling over or going home? The latter wasn't a mere suggestion. GO. HOME.<

>>>

>Up to receiving a visitor?<

No answer. Well, that _does_ answer what his Grimm is most likely doing.

Upon finishing work that day Sean first drives over to his own house, fetching a few things, before continuing on to Nick's place.

Unobtrusively he takes a spare key from its secret hiding place (a much better hiding place than the cliché key under flower pot) and cannot help but contemplate it for a moment. It's been one of their semi silent agreements. This one they have made when Nick has taken him home after their last decidedly wet HI-training session in March. Before entering his own house his Detective has simply waited until he's had Sean's full attention, then taken out the key from where it's been stashed and held it up in front of him with a grin.

“Spare key.”

Knowing that Nick's main key is safely resting in one of his track pant pockets makes further words unnecessary. Like so many other things between them this one goes without saying.

And so the bastard Prince uses the key to let himself into Nick Burkhardt's home.

Making his way into the living room on silent feet he finds Nick sleeping soundly (which is meant literally for his nose is still blocked and he is snoring softly) on his couch just as Sean has predicted when an answer to his text message has failed to come in.

The half-zauberbiest shakes his head at the state of the room: There's a box of Kleenex on the coffee table along with used varieties of the same and a half empty mug is placed precariously close the table's edge as if Nick hasn't been able or willing to reach any farther when putting it away. The thick woollen blanket has slid off of him, most likely when he's rolled into that awkward position he's sleeping in now.

Sean represses a sigh, knowing that a Grimm's sensitive hearing would take it up and it would rouse him from slumber. Instead he takes at least the mug and makes his way into the kitchen to get a few things done before Nick wakes. Adjusting the blanket with movements careful enough not to disturb him is a given that the proud Prince doesn't even think about anymore.

>>>

“Coffee?” Nick doesn't ask why he is here or what he is doing, he just takes it in stride as if it is the most normal thing in the world. The tall 'biest turns his head, not moving from where he is standing at the stove, and gives the younger man a wryly amused once over.

“Have you heard yourself speak recently? I think not. You can have herbal tea.”

“Hmm.”

He sounds as if he's swallowed gravel and he looks like he has been rubbed the wrong way by a blanket, then engaged in a cat fight and lost... spectacularly. Furthermore he wears a dark blue sweater... _his_ dark blue sweater. He doesn't comment on it or give any indication that he has noticed.

“Just sit down and wait until I've finished making dinner.”

“Bossing me around in my own house?”

“Cooking you dinner?”

“Point taken.”

Nick sits down at the table watching Renard move around the room as if he has done so for years. A short while later a big mug of something, that smells either of medicinal herbs or socks that have been where no sock should ever go depending on your personal view, is placed in front of him. Nick tries to imagine the former but falls back on the latter once he's taken a first tentative sip.

_Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Worse than tofurky... stinky sock tofurky!_

He makes a face and searches for something to distract himself with.

“Just out of curiosity, do you even know how to cook? I mean, you _do_ have a house keeper who generally does cooking and stuff, don't you?”

Again that short glance over his shoulder, elegant eyebrow raised.

“Won't you find out?”

“Answering a question with a question is sneaky. And after that brew you insist is actually tea I think I deserve a nice meal.”

Nick replies somewhere between slightly miffed and mock patronising. Sean acquits that with the snort it deserves.

“Didn't we already have a conversation about whining being an undesirable character treat today?”

>>>

They have retired to the couch after eating dinner, which has been amazing... although his taste buds may simply be deadened by his cold. He has to test that theory on a later occasion with a second dinner cooked by Sean. Most likely it will taste amazing anyway. The Prince doesn't seem to be a man who does anything by half or less than adequately.

“I have brought a few of your clothes with me.”

Nick wrinkles his brows in confusion.

“Didn't we agreed on leaving some of them at your place just in case?”

“Yes, we did. But robbing me of the sight of you in clothes two sizes too big? It would have been such a pity.” The usually so controlled man actually chuckles at the mental image.

“I am so glad to be a source of amusement to you.”

“Looking at you now I cannot believe that wearing my clothes is such a hardship for you.”

Nick blushes deep crimson... but makes no move to get out of the Captain's sweater. As if to spite the zauberbiest Prince he pulls his hands back into the sleeves so that they disappear completely before grabbing the hot mug with both hands – bundled in and protected by the soft blue fabric.

“They do have their perks.”

>>>

They are watching some film on TV – no wait, Sean is watching TV while Nick is dead to the world next to him. He doesn't know how exactly this has happened but at some point the oh so durable Grimm has fallen asleep in the middle of their conversation ending them in the position they are in now:

The ruler of wesen Portland sits semi stiffly on Nicholas Burkhardt's couch while the head of the local Grimm has somehow found its way to resting on his shoulder. Now he cannot bring himself to change his position for fear of waking him – and isn't that a peculiar thing, indeed?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was talk about sweaters and a bit of exercise for our duo. Next time: the marathon.


	5. Spring marathon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the final chapter! Finally we get to the big event and all it entails.That said, I have already planned two additional stories for the series. ^___^

 

Day 208 (April, 23rd):

 

>Do you have by any chance a list of all wesen attending the marathon?<

>Why? Want to get rid of a few competitors with a Grimm excuse on hand?<

>Nope. Rather the opposite. I want to talk to them beforehand to avoid panic on the run.<

>Laudable endeavour. My sense for de-escalation manoeuvres rejoices at that plan of action.<

>I'll mark the day in my calendar: Today I made Captain Renard rejoice at something.<

>Or you could refrain from doing that and in turn rejoice at not being banned to desk duty for a month.<

>You are evil. Don't you like anybody knowing that you have a heart?<

>Take an educated guess.<

>...<

>... Now, could you mail me that list?<

>I don't know, if I should. I have an image to keep.<

>An evil image?<

 

An hour later Nick has a list to work with, including every wesen taking part in the marathon. With a feeling of boyish giddiness he then walks up to his calendar in the kitchen, takes a red marker and writes down, what he has told the Prince he would write... well not exactly that but something similar so that later he can say he did not write, what Sean forbade him to.

'Made the Captain happy today.'

That is so much better. Sean will like it... or not.

 Day 219 (May, 4th ):

Eighteen wesen will attend the marathon with him. It is one day before the run and just now he cannot help thinking back to the more memorable conversations and meetings:

There are Sergeants Kellerman and Kershaw, a female Scharfblick and her male Steinadler partner. Both are from the same precinct as him but working in drugs division. They are Nick's first stop and first successful attempt at building ties with wesen working for PPD.

Both are approximately his age and to his careful revelation that he is a Grimm he gets answering conspirational grins, a slap on the shoulder from Kershaw and a triumphant “We have the Grimm!” from Kellerman.

At Nick's questioning gaze she explains:

“Oh, come on. We might not work homicide but we are wesen and we are connected to others of our kind. We would have to be blind and deaf not to have heard anything about how our local Grimm Detective handles most of his cases. That, and my mother is a close friend of Phoebe Wurstner, which means I know practically everything about you from your shoe size to which pies you like.”

He shakes his head with a grin.

“The lodge is the true mafia of this city, isn't it?”

“Jep, it is. Nothing goes on in Portland without the Eisbibers knowledge. Anyway, don't worry about it, Detective. It's not your fault you have creepy ancestors.”

While her partner unobtrusively elbows her Nick takes her ribbing in stride. He knows her for all of 15 minutes but instinct and inherent observational skills tell him that her teasing is truly just that.

“Haha, funny. If I had any such delusions like my dear ancestors had, I could say the same goes for you.”

“Only that you wouldn't have said that but rather beheaded us at first sight.”

This is her partner smirking and showing a streak of black humour, that reminds the Grimm vaguely of Sean and makes him instantly like the Steinadler. Kellerman glares at her partner in exasperation, muttering: “Who's the tactless one now?”

Nick is not perturbed, though. He's spent more than enough time with Monroe to know each and every Grimm insulting joke there is.

“Oh, you have a point there. Lucky for us all that I am more the friendly neighbourhood Grimm instead of a murdering one.”

 

And that's been that. In a matter of a few minutes he has made two new friends (and yes, Renard would smirk at the term 'making friends') and been able to tick off two names on his list.

 

>>>

 

Trevor Raymonds from North-Precinct, a Drang-Zorn wary of almost anyone and especially distrustful of Grimms, is another matter entirely. Nick calls it a success that he's been able to appease him enough to have him still attend the run. He promises to keep his distance and cannot help but comment wryly (and a tad bit snappish) that he would have his work cut out for him should he want to do harm to the other man with hundreds of people watching. His remark is not met by enthusiasm... at all. So he excuses himself and vows to avoid the officer when taking part in the run.

 

>>>

 

Best and most surprising of all is one Gwendolyn Ollipot, though, a Genio Innocuo, 79 years of age and undisputed Master of East-Precinct's case file archive. He finds himself smiling in remembrance of their first meeting:

 

Nick asks at the front desk where he may find Mrs. Ollipot and is directed through to the archive. The small corridors packed with shelves which are stuffed with cardboard boxes from floor to ceiling are winding and dim just like you would expect of an old set of rooms like this.

“Mrs. Ollipot?”

No answer. He follows the sounds his sensitive hearing takes up, moving farther into the labyrinth of musty smelling shelves.

“Mrs. Gwendolyn Ollipot? Are you there?”

Some shuffling and rustling.

“Who's there? Just come through. I am in section F6. Follow the signs.”

Her voice shows her age but also speaks of a hefty personality. This isn't some brittle elderly lady but rather a tough as nails granny.

“It's Detective Nick Burkhardt.”

“I have heard that name somewhere before. Come through, come through, so that I may attach a face to that elusive memory.”

Nick turns the final corner and instantly feels a smile tugging at his lips upon seeing her. She cannot be more that 5 feet tall, looks sturdy without being thick set and generally gives an impression of a more than capable lady.

“Well, who do we have here? Such a good looking young man. Which precinct are you from?”

Somehow when she says this, giving him an appraising once over, Nick does feel like a grandchild she hadn't seen in a while. He blushes but smiles, hand moving to rub the back of his head in an unconscious gesture.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ollipot. I work at South Precinct under Captain Renard's command.”

“Oh, Captain Renard, capable man.”

There's something in those old, watchful eyes that speaks of an awareness for Renard's capability beyond that of knowing him as a member of PPD. Most likely she knows that he is the Prince of Portland.

“Capable and a hellish taskmaster.”

“I would hope so. Takes some guts to keep a bunch of cops in line, don't you think, Detective?”

A mischievous gleam makes her eyes light up. She moves to sit behind her cluttered worktable, offering him to take a seat on a stool in front of it.

“So, what brings you here, Detective Burkhardt?”

“Well, I've heard you are taking part in inter-precinct marathon this year and I thought it sensible...” He isn't sure how to go on.

“Yes, dear. I do so. If you are worried about my age, don't be. I have run marathons since well before you have been born. This old lady knows what she is doing.”

Nick smiles at that.

“Oh no, this isn't what I am here about but you see... I don't want to cause a panic so....”

“Oh out with it, young man, before curiosity kills the cat, namely me.”

She doesn't sound flustered or nervous at all which finally pushes Nick to spill the beans.

“Thing is, I am the Grimm of Portland and I know you are wesen and I just wanted to tell you that you have nothing to fear at all, because I am not that kind of Grimm and....” He is aware he is rambling.

“Oh, _that_ is the connection! Oh my, an old lady's memory is like a sieve sometimes.”

 

To Nick's immense surprise she doesn't look terrified at his revelation but rather irritated with herself because she's been so slow on the uptake. Now she gives him a whole different kind of appraising stare, one without fear or dislike, though. It is much more like....

 

“I've been wanting to meet you for some time now, dear boy. You've encountered my great grand niece, Dr. Mary Higgins, I believe. She told me about what happened to Pierce and how you intervened without killing or hurting anyone.” Her words are soft spoken and heavy with emotion now. A seriousness reflected in her tone, that speaks of compassion and sorrow.

Nick lowers his gaze for a moment. It has been that murder series where a mother, Dr. Higgins, has tried to make her son more successful in life by mixing his Genio Innocuo genes with that of a Lowen and thereby has caused him to develop a split personality.

“Yes, I remember her and her son.” Nick finds his own voice raw with emotion. It has been a tragic case.

When he looks back up Mrs. Ollipot woges briefly, not out of emotional distress, though, but to show her true appearance to him it seems.

“You've done what you could. So don't you worry, Detective. I see and hear many things and what I have heard about you makes me curious but not afraid.”

“Uuh, thank you... for your advocacy. And I'm sorry this happened to your extended family.”

He feels uncomfortable with her praise when all he has done is put a young man in prison – a young man that is a member of her family. But there's nothing to be done about that now, so he goes on quietly.

“Other than that I hope you'll still take part in the run. As I've said, no wesen has to fear me because of its heritage.”

Keen eyes hold his gaze as the old lady nods in what seems is approval.

“It speaks for you that you worry about such things. And now, young man, no more dark musings and dallying, or I am sure that Captain of yours will have a few choice words to say.”

Nick rises from his chair, a small smile reappearing.

“That Captain of mine was the one to tell me who I need to talk to, actually. But I will pass on the greetings, Mrs. Ollipot and see you at the marathon.”

“Yes, you will, dear boy.”

 

 

Day 220 (May, 5th)

 

The day of the marathon begins sunny and bright. Nick is up literally since the crack of dawn, too excited to sleep any longer and filled with a kind of anticipation that has nothing to do with nervousness but everything with the thrill of finally doing this!

He prepares his meal, takes coffee and food out into the garden and eats sitting on the back door steps. Sun shines down on him gently and he's happy to let it drive away early morning chill. It will be perfect running weather: Not too cold or too warm and for once no rain.

 

>>>

 

After breakfast he packs his bag, loading in clothes for running, water bottles, a towel, tape and so on... in short: Everything you need for a day like this.

Yesterday Monroe, Hank and Wu have been over to help him set up everything for the barbecue which is to take place at his home after the run and subsequent official part. It will just be a relaxed get-together with friends, nothing formal or strained. Apart from the marathon itself, of course, this is his favourite event today. There's meat, beer, salads and other goodies already in the fridge - along with cheesecake for Renard – and he hasn't switched his calendar from April to May so that the oh so dignified Prince may appreciate, what he's written down there.

A smirk, a last glance to the calendar in question, then he's off to precinct to meet up with Hank. He'll use the opportunity to change into his running clothes in the locker room, a definite advantage of your precinct being near start area.

>>>

Hank enters the locker-room in search of Nick but upon seeing his partner doing... whatever... any greetings die on his tongue. He takes a closer look, frowning when he discovers what he actually is doing.

“Do I even want to know why you are taping your... ummh... nubbies?”

Nick looks up from his naked chest with an expression somewhere between skeptical and amused.

“Nubbies?” He holds Hank's gaze, teasing spark gleaming in his eyes.

“Cute.”

Now that's teasing with a definite note of pitying amusement. Hank glares down on him, using superior height to his advantage.

“The Captain is rubbing off on you, do you know that? And will you answer my question now or is the reason too embarrassing?”

Nick cocks his head to give him a 'You wish' kind of stare.

“I am taping my... _nubbies_ (a pointed look and infuriatingly smug grin, that Hank itches to wipe off)... because you _really_ don't want to know how many runners reach the goal of a marathon with their _nubbies_ (A helpless chuckle this time. Oh how he wants to clout Nick over the head!)... sorry ... rubbed raw and bloody after the material of their shirt has shifted against their _nubbies_ for three or four hours straight.”

“Careful, Mr. Grimm, another sentence in that mocking tone and I'm no longer responsible for my hand, if it cuffs you over the head. Other than that, that does sound nasty,man, and I'm not sure I wanted to know.”

Hank's own tone is gruff but an amused gleam in those dark eyes tells Nick that his partner isn't seriously miffed. The Grimm gives a shrug.

“It's not my fault you use weird words.... and about the second one, not my fault either. You asked.”

While he says this he pats his chest with unconcerned enthusiasm to make sure the tape sticks to his skin.

“Don't believe a word of what he's saying, Hank, he just likes to apply tape there.”

Captain Renard – elegantly leaning against the door frame for God knows how long with hands stuck into dark cargo pant pockets – sounds totally deadpan. Only his eyes show the slightest hint of amusement. He watches their local Grimm with something akin to morbid fascination and gives nothing away while Hank chortles with laughter and Nick sputters indignantly.

“Do you call that supportive?”

“You mocked your partner, Detective. I thought it only right to even things out.”

An intense stare that never fails to make Nick feel like a scolded schoolboy, no matter that they are close friends by now, and Hank mouthing 'You see? You mocked me.' makes the Grimm blush and scowl.

“Now be a good boy, finish taping your ...nubbies... and get ready for the run.”

While Nick's scowl is swept away by a new bout of helpless laughter Hank sends their Captain a dirty look that surely must be enough to kill him, but the bastard Prince has always been a tougher than normal guy, hasn't he?

“I hate you all.” Hank murmurs under his breath before a crooked grin steals upon his features seemingly against his will.

“Well, I'm off to round up the others and find us a good place to see you start, so watch out for us.”

With a slap to his shoulder that nearly sends the seasoned Grimm flying the broad-shouldered Detective makes his way over to the door.

“Captain, you gonna make sure our champion reaches starting area?”

“That's why I am here. I will see you later. Just send me a text where you've taken up position.”

“Will do, Sir. And Nick? You might be crazy (pointed look to his chest) but you're gonna rock it today! We'll be there and do our damned best to give you a good cheer.”

Nick's answering grin shows not teasing or pity. It is open and appreciative and filled with excitement at the upcoming challenge.

“I'll better do my best then, don't I?”

 

>>>

 

When Hank has left only Sean remains, waiting silently while Nick throws on a sleeveless shirt, that shows the precinct label on the back, and applies his starting number sticker to the front.

“All set and ready?”

It is a neutrally posed question but behind those words Nick can sense so much more. He smiles in response and nods.

“Yeah, all good. I can't wait to start actually. All that training and time... and now I'll finally see what I can do.”

“You'll do well.” A smirk steals on angular features.

“Just remember: You are a Grimm. You will cope.”

The mentioned Grimm mirrors his expression.

“Our answer to everything. I begin to like it. Not that it sounds in any way cocky....”

The ironic quirk to his lips definitely takes away a bit of what Monroe calls his puppy dog look but Sean likes it and the humour which lies underneath his words.

 

>>>

 

They exit precinct locker-room together, leaving the building and walking the short distance to the start area in companionable silence.

Renard exchanges a few words of support with all his subordinates, even complies with a wry smile when Devi Kellerman presents her small hand for a high five, which is dead adorable because the Captain is easily 10 inches taller than her, and finishes his round with Nick.

A last glance and nod, a last squeeze of his shoulder – all without drawing overly much attention from the many other runners – then Sean makes his way to Hank and the crew, who have all assembled to support their friends, and Nick joins his colleagues to wait for the start.

Franco doesn't look all that sure he really wants to do this but from what Hank has told him he has lost a bet with Wu and, well, nobody can say Sergeant Franco isn't an honorable man... or that he hasn't known what he got himself into once starting a bet with the Asian..

“Must have been one killer of a lost bet to end up runnin' a marathon.”

This gets the Grimm a playful punch to the shoulder and sour look but Franco also is a man, who is too even spirited to stay grumpy for long.

“You could say that, Burkhardt. So let me give you an advice: Never bet with Drew even if you are 100% sure you will win.... You just never do.”

“Stopped betting against Wu ever since doing that forced me to wear a peach coloured, hand-knitted scarf for a day... in June.”

“Really? I could swear that overlarge sweater you wore that other day was Drew's handiwork as well.”

Nick's expression darkens slightly before a grin breaks through seemingly against his will.

“No, _that_ was another matter entirely.”

“Oh well, if you say so. Good luck for the run, mate. And I may not have been entering all that voluntarily but we are gonna show them up today, that's for sure!”

“You can bet on that.”

Franco gives him a last slap on the shoulder before he makes his way over to another one of their colleagues to warm up for the run.

 

Nick moves over to Brad and Devi. One evening the Steinadler has called and asked if he wanted to start together as a group with them and, having found Brad and his Scharfblick partner to be good company, the Grimm has happily agreed.

The deal is: If their pace remains the same they'll do this together but if anyone wants to run faster or slower at any point that's okay, too. After all, each of them has their very own time frame set for the run.

So he jokes around with those two until the official part begins, keeps his distance from Raymonds and gets a pat on the shoulder from Mrs. Ollipot and her confidant vote that he'll do just fine.

 

>>>

 

Excitement mounts among runners and spectators alike. The general noise level speaks of a happy crowd eager to watch and cheer and it fuels on the runners even more.

 

The Chief of Police makes a speech, which Nick could have done without, but seeing Renard stand on the same stage along with the other two Captains makes it worthwhile at least.

Members of South-Precinct are proud of their commander for they can clearly see that he is with them in this with all he's got. Gone is his distanced act when he takes the opportunity to address them personally to rally them on!

And as always he's perfectly dressed to fit the occasion:

Instead of his normal attire of suit and slacks he wears a black t-shirt with precinct emblem on the back, just like all those taking part in the run do, dark cargo pants and matching trainers. In short, he looks as if he could jump down from that stage and run with them at any given moment... which nobody would doubt considering Renard's fitness levels.

 

About 300 runners from all three precincts will start today and when finally the signal goes off the crowd goes crazy with cheering them on.

They all set into motion divided into smaller groups, so Nick starts together with Franco, Devi, Brad and Gwendolyn, along with many more fellow cops. As always there is much competition between precincts but overall everyone just wants to have a good time and groups entail members from all stations.

But it is what Nick sees when he looks for his friends that nearly takes his breath. He spots so many familiar people!

There are Hank, Wu, Sean, Monroe and Rosalee, of course, all cheering and raising a true ruckus. They've painted writing on their faces or in Sean's case on his lower right arm and if Nick sees right it spells 'NTG' in bold letters. Happiness bubbles up inside him, fueling him on and making him thank whatever deity for having such great friends!

 

But still there are so many more:

Bud has taken his whole family and half of the lodge here it seems. His wife Phoebe is already handing out pastries and loads of other baked goods to family, friends and total strangers, while her husband looks for him with anxiousness that stems from excitement instead of fear.

Together with Devi he waves at them when they run past before his gaze moves on – to discover Frank Rabe along with his son Barry. Roddy Geiger and even Gracie, who makes her brother Hanson lift her up so that she can hand him one of her self made sea-shell necklaces. He shouts his thanks to them and then they are past.

“Catering to fans, Burkhardt?”

That's Devi from beside him, teasing once again as if they've known each other much longer than just a few days. He gives her a mock evil glare and waves the gift.

“That's catering to friends and in case you didn't know, there's a difference.”

“Ha, if you say so. There are certainly a lot of... people cheering for you.”

Both know without a doubt that she would have said 'wesen' hadn't they been in a crowd of thousands of unsuspecting people.

 

If half his mind and the whole of his body weren't focussed on running he might have choked up at the sight of all this support. He has known that some of Portland's wesen do not view him as a threat any longer but that so many have come here humbles Nick like few things could have.

 

>>>

 

They have a fool proof plan:

Monroe is their scout. With a blutbad's olfactory senses he's able to smell Nick throughout the mass of people and determine his current position almost without fail. Hank has gone so far as to give him one of Nick's worn shirts which he's swiped earlier so that Monroe will have an easier access to his scent. Following that Hank and Wu have cracked so many jokes about dogs and following trails that Renard has intervened with a truly frightening stare and sent them to fetch their banners and such from the cars.

 

Which is exactly what their task is today: Hank does the driving in turns with Sean while Wu oversees de- and re-loading of car trunks with banners, food and drinks to get them to different spots along the running course, which spans a little over 26 miles, after all.

While Monroe is also responsible for providing Nick with bottles of non-alcoholic drinks, Rosalee has taken on the difficult task of feeding the wild, rompish mob, that is their little fan group, which means giving out food and drink to approximately 5 to 10 people, who are constantly changing position along the course.

 

>>>

 

When they are deep in the forest Nick spots Holly Clark, sitting high up in a tree, smiling, waving and calling out to him:

“Nick, watch out! They are waiting for you!”

“That did sound a bit ominous, didn't it?”

The Grimm wholly agrees with the Steinadler running on his left side. Well, Holly has learned a lot in her time out of the woods but sometimes she still lacks a bit refinement at how to put things into words. Anyway, she more than makes that up with her kind nature and gentle enthusiasm once she's managed to get over her initial shyness.

He grins like a maniac, knowing that this run is a gift to him in so many more ways than just being able to complete such a course..

“She means well.”

“Oh, look!!” Devi this time, spotting something with her sharp eyes that the others haven't so far. That's what Holly has meant!

Up ahead are Rosalee, the Captain, Wu and Hank holding up banners with brightly coloured writing on them. Nick feels a laugh bubble up inside him when he reads the lines:

 **G** oing **R** ight **I** nto **M** arathon **M** ania!!!

 **G** onna **R** ock **I** t, **M** arathon **M** an!!!

And that's only two of them.

“Is it just a _really_ unlikely coincidence or do the first letters of every banner spell GRIMM, if taken together?”

“I'm sure that is just a _really_ unlikely coincidence.”

Irony is such a wonderful thing.

 

>>>

 

Monroe is great at providing drinks and such, although there's been one near heart-attack moment when the blutbad has all but jumped out of a bush to take an empty bottle from his friend. Devi has laughed so hard that she nearly stumbled or would actually have, if it hadn't been for Brad grabbing her to catch her momentum.

 

>>>

 

Nick falls into a familiar routine of motions. It is like his body remembers what to do before his mind can even think it. The feeling is great and enables Nick to sink into a deeply relaxed state. He thinks back to how all this has begun and for a while loses himself in memories.

Kellerman and Kershaw let him go with a shared grin as he unconsciously quickens his pace. When Grimm instinct takes over is it like a palpable thing. It's nothing they fear but still a sight to behold when the Detective grows all quiet and absolutely calm, his inner predator pushing him to reach past his limits and tap into that seemingly bottomless well that is a Grimm's inner strength.

 

Nick thinks back to the day when he's gone literally into a lion's den to save a man, who's been no more than an uneasy ally at that time. He feels again surprise, empathy, anger and gratitude as he relives the hours after – establishing trust, gaining an insight into a complicated, deeply suspicious man. Giving help and receiving some in return.

That's been their beginning.

Miles run away under his feet while he remembers it all:

Those first text messages, banter still limited by keeping a careful distance while coming nearer, discovering more of that man than he ever thought possible.

 

And then they've actually begun helping each other. With little things, at first, before going farther, _reaching_ farther step by step.

 

Sometimes it's been like an uneasy, dangerous dance. Two complicated men with an even more complicated relationship balancing on uneven, barely there ground to find a way. At other times things have simply fallen into place. Routines establishing themselves as if they have just waited for their chance to do so.

 

They've started trusting each other, have become friends.

 

Coffee and talking, of course.

 

The wild landscape of Forest Park and past events alike flow by.

 

That first coffee... and he has counted it a resounding success to even get Renard to exchange banter on that level. Oh and did he mention that heavenly good coffee?

 

With memories of HI-training and sparring with Renard Nick's thirst to excel reasserts itself. This is not simply running, this is a challenge! It is something he has taken 7 months to train for. It is like pitting his strength against that of the powerful zauberbiest all over again. The thrill of a fight merges with elation of running as past sensations collide with present ones. The burn of adrenaline, warmth and strength flowing through muscles.

 

The Grimm makes it back to the city part of the course moving practically on autopilot. That leaves only the last third to complete.

 

Renard and Hank have taken up position high on some stairs leading to a pedestrians only area, leaning with their arms on the stone railing and waiting for their Grimm to jog past. When the shrewd Prince spots him the ghost of a knowing smile appears.

“Look. Time has arrived to watch the true potential of our Detective unfold.”

He points out to the Afro-American.

“How can you tell? I mean, he looks alright with running but that's surely not what you mean.”

“It isn't. And it is his focus that has changed. He takes in all his surroundings and yet his thoughts are directed inward. He has reached a state where instinct has taken over.”

“Instinct and the hell bent will to show them all up.” Hank responds with a grin that speaks of personal experience. Not many would assume that their good-natured Detective has a competitive streak and stubborn will to prove himself but he has seen it time and time again.

“Nick is a great mate but he's also one hell of an opponent in a sparring match.”

The Captain and Hank can relate all to well in that area.

“Who are you telling this?” A smirk mirrored by the senior Detective.

It might be a bitch of an effort sometimes but it also is what makes sparring with the Grimm so interesting.

They continue watching their friend, who runs past oblivious to his audience, well on the way of cracking his pre-set finishing time.

 

>>>

 

And another one is watching Nick run past. He observes, draws conclusions, makes plans.

The Grimm.

Disgust sweeps through him when he sees him being cheered on by his friends – his wesen and kehrseite associates. He shudders.

_This will stop. Either that or the Grimm will die!_

The stranger pulls back out of the mass of onlookers without anyone noticing him. He has much to prepare.

_He will lead that man back onto the right path no matter if he has to break him in the process!_

 

>>>

 

When Nick feels himself tire he goes deeper into himself – seeks his Grimm nature and all it entails. He immerses himself, does what Monroe and Sean have taught him. In his mind he returns to HI-training, to sparring in the rain, to giving everything! Going all out! And so he pushes on.

 

>>>

 

It is as if coming out of a daydream. Like someone has turned sight and sound back on. Awareness of a world beyond the borders of his own body.

They are all there! Have been with him the whole time. They are cheering and shouting – his friends, his colleagues and all those many people supporting all participants. He has reached the last mile! This is it! The final stretch of the marathon! One last time he takes everything out of himself. The last meters. The crowd so loud it is nearly deafening....

 

When Nick reaches the finishing line he is flowing over with elation and relief and a myriad of other emotions. He's done it!! He's really done it!!

 

He continues on to changing area at a slow pace after that. His legs feel like under a low electric current, still set on running rather than walking. His head swims with different emotions and impressions. He hands over his track band, which has recorded his running time, in a daze.

Changing into a new set of clothes, being happily rejoined by Brad and Devi, who have finished about 15 minutes later than him, and finally searching for his friends are his next steps.

 

It seems he doesn't have to search at all, because as soon as he steps out of the fenced off area they are all upon him, shouting, cheering and laughing!

 

Rosalee practically bowls him over in her enthusiasm to hug him and he swears, he has never heard her squeal like that in all their time! He hugs her back as best as he can, laughing at her antics and feeling insanely happy. After some time Monroe grumbles from behind her and she lets go, dark eyes dancing with mirth and pride for her friend. Hank is next and Nick all but sags against his broad chest as he is drawn into a bear hug. Now that adrenaline levels have lowered his legs feel like jello and his mind still whirls with all those different impressions.

He simply leans there, trying to catch his breath and get a clear head while Hank all but holds him up.

“You did it, partner! You really did a thing today!” Is his quiet but fierce assertion.

When he's finally sure his legs will hold him he gently pushes himself away from the taller man, looking up and showing Hank a face glowing with happiness and gratitude.

“Yes. I did.” There's wonder in his voice as if he still cannot believe it himself.

“But I couldn't have...!”

He looks into all their faces: Monroe, Rosalee, Hank, Wu and a little off to the side Sean. They all crowd around him, each having their own way of showing him that he's done well. There's slapping on the back and hugs and a myriad of different comments and for all the world he cannot put into words how much this all means to him.

“I... I couldn't have... you were all so great, guys!!”

“Oh, come on, dude, no need to get all teary-eyed.”

“Not getting teary-eyed at all.” Nick mumbles but for all his denial his eyes remain suspiciously bright.

“Anyway, was a real killer to see you do this... and we got to taste Phoebe Wurstner's pies. I would say it was well worth it.”

Monroe's words are a little less gruff than normal and his own voice just this side of emotional as he pats Nick repeatedly on the shoulder. Rosalee steps up and spontaneously wraps him in a second, much gentler and motherly hug, murmuring into his ear how proud she is of him.

 

“Okay, okay. Now give the man some space to re-acclimate. We don't want to overwhelm him, do we?”

That's Wu, as always gathering all the important facts and connecting the dots.

“I think he's doing a fine job himself with the overwhelming part.”

“Hey.” A protest from Nick, albeit a weak one.

“All the more reason to give him some breathing space, lady and gentlemen.”

 

>>>

 

When things have calmed down a bit Nick leans with his hands on the railing of one of the barriers, letting his head sink and his mind wander. He's aware of Sean's presence long before the man makes it known despite his natural stealth. After months of getting to know him this has become a sixth sense. He has been there to see Nick finish the run, has cheered with the others, but no matter how much the distanced Royal has changed, standing in a group of people giving out hugs and back slaps will never be his thing.

 

Nick gazes at the metal rail without really seeing it, sounds and memories washing over him. He waits, calms down bit by bit, finds peace after adrenaline and a strong will has pushed him on for hours.

A large, warm hand clasps his neck and draws him to a broad black clad chest, to the person on the other side of the fence. The contact is brief, no longer than a few seconds, but for some time the Grimm feels a steady heartbeat against his cheek and a low murmur reaches his ears and rumbles through that chest.

“It seems all that 'whipping into shape' has done some good. Had I known it would yield such good results I would have employed that method much earlier.”

“And what you do every day at precinct is not what you call 'whip us into shape'? I am shocked, Captain.”

All this is a whisper as low as Sean's. When he looks back up he finds the half-zauberbiest gazing down on him with a peculiar expression. There's a challenge, there's curiosity but also an emotion that looks foreign on the man's sharp features. A quiet smile grazes thin lips, barely hidden mirth makes green eyes lose some of their cool calculation. But what really is so foreign is another emotion altogether.

“3:16:79. You put even your best training records to shame today. You've given everything and it was well visible.”

It is pride.

Stormy grey eyes hold those of his zauberbiest Captain. This time they are not bright with unshed tears but filled with thousands of things he wants to say to the other man. In the end he doesn't need to spell it all out. He just needs to quip 'And I couldn't have done it without my hellish taskmaster.' for Sean to understand all that is hidden underneath that single sentence.

 

>>>

 

Nick tells them that he wants to wait for another runner to finish, so they all linger around on the lawns of Willamette, which is no hardship as the day is mild and the sun shining warmly, and Wu wants to wait for Franco, anyway.

 

When after half an hour Nick visibly perks up and walks up to an elderly lady wearing an old-fashioning tracksuit they all show varying degrees of astonishment. When they both hug and high-five Wu actively has to pick up his jaw from the ground while Hank chuckles quietly. Of course, he knows who that lady is. Nick has told him of his memorable first meeting with her.

“Did Nick just high five with a Granny?”

Hank's eyes sweep over from the Asian to the odd pair.

“Jep, and it's even better. He did high five with a tortoise like wesen Granny, who would best us all at running every day of the week and who called him a dear boy when she heard he's a Grimm.”

 

“Really? You are not kidding good ol' Wu?”

“Nope. I think Nick's description was 'tough as nails tortoise lady'... although I think instead of tortoise he's used some weird wesen name.”

 

>>>

 

To decide a winner running time of every member of a precinct has been added up and then divided by the number of participants from the respective precinct to get comparable results.

South-precinct has won by a hair's width, a fact which is greeted with a roaring cheer from its members, Captain included.

Nick for his parts has known that he's scored a better time than he initially planned to but would never have thought it possible to make it among the five best runners! He is just digesting that fact when in a spontaneous act of glee Hank, Wu and Franco grab him and put him on their collective shoulders, celebrating their mate in typical cop ruckus fashion.

“Woah, guys, tame it down a bit, will you? I don't want to break a leg now, if you let me crash!”

Nick protests but is laughing all the same.

“No chance, Burkhardt. That's the downside of glory. Live with it!”

“I'll remind you of that some time later, Wu.”

There's no stopping them, anyway, and seeing even Renard unable to hide his triumphant smirk as he stands on the stage nearly makes being jostled around worth it.

 

>>>

 

Bud and Wu man the barbecue, Hank, Sean and Rosalee assemble the rest of the food for later and a certain blutbad and Grimm are settled in a far corner of the garden, beer in hand and sitting on the lawn. It has to be said in their defense that they have carried a mighty load of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks earlier and that Monroe wants to get as far away from the grill as possible as long as meat is actually sizzling there.

“You really spaced out there for a time, dude. Not cool! We were waving things for you, you know?”

Monroe's brows draw together in a typical show of blutbad indignation but Nick has long since learned that Monroe's bark rarely heralds bite. He finds himself ducking his head in embarrassment nonetheless.

“Sorry, jogged down memory lane, I guess.”

Monroe grins almost against his will.

“Wanna see you try pinpoint that one on a Portland city map.”

“Not possible, it was all in my head.”

“And that's supposed to be reassuring, how?”

“Don't know... reassuring enough that it were mostly happy memories?”

“I dearly hope so. Moping around on a day like this is simply not done!”

“Hey, it's not as if I walk around moping all the time. Especially not today.”

“Don't get all smug there. Might makes your head swell, Mr. Grimm.... Although today you probably got the right to.” The last is added like an afterthought.

 

They bicker on in that fashion until Rosalee joins them, plopping down to lie on her back beside them in the grass and closing her eyes with a content sigh.

“Nick, Sean asked to see you.... Something in the kitchen.”

When the Grimm blanches slightly at this Monroe grows suspicious, but before he can ask what's the matter Nick has risen and already makes his way over. With a shrug he sinks down next to his beloved fuchsbau.

“You know what this is about, hon?”

“Not sure. But there was a curious sentence written on a calendar. I think it was something along the lines of 'making the Captain happy'.”

“Oh well, those two will sort it out.”

 

>>>

 

Nick enters the kitchen cautiously. Renard is leaning against the worktable looking at home there just like he's done, when he has cooked dinner for him while he's been down with that cold last month. He looks unthreatening enough but Nick isn't going to assume.

“Rosie said you wanted to see me?”

The half-zauberbiest actually smirks at his hesitant tone, smirks like the devil in hiding. Green eyes pin him to the spot while the man's posture is one of deceptive relaxation, sleeves of his loose button down shirt rolled up and all.

“I took the liberty of switching the leaf of your calendar to May... it did seem a bit remiss of you to forget doing so.”

If ever a shark out for blood has spoken in a smooth, velvety drawl and projected an aura of pure evil while smiling benignly, now Nick knows how that sounds and looks. He swallows thickly, puts on his best boyish smile and storms off to where there are many witnesses, before his creepy zauberbiest Captain can get any closer.

“Just remembered, got to help Bud and Wu with the BBQ! There's cheesecake in the fridge, by the way.”

He throws this over his shoulder in a rush while he makes sure to put as much distance between himself and Sean as he is able to.... And did he mention as many witnesses as possible?

 

>>>

 

When Nick practically sprints out of the house all of them look up in confusion.

“Don't run!! After the strain of today your legs cramp all too easily.”

The Captain's sharp reprimand rings out clearly from within the house. For all Nick cares he could have said 'Quit running, you won't be able to escape, anyway.' but he does slow down before making his way over to the grill.

 

Didn't Nick run a marathon already today?”

Bud asks from where he's standing at the barbecue with Sergeant Wu.

“Oh he certainly did, but there are some things pushing you to run even faster than a marathon could ever do.”

The ominous, knowing smirk on the Asian's face makes Bud a little nervous but he supposes Nick wouldn't have him as a friend, if he were dangerous... although he is a Grimm and maybe Grimms are better equipped to handle that...

Oh, well. He has stopped worrying about such things ever since he's become friends with Nick... he's not worrying much, anyway.

 

“Hey, guys. What's up with the meat?”

He looks a bit harried.

“Sizzling like a hummer in a pot. (Nick really wants to wipe off Wu's smug grin and hit him for that bad pun.) All is well. No need to linger. Why don't you go to keep our dear Captain company?”

The dirty look Drew gets from the Grimm makes Bud cringe. Wu remains unaffected, though, waiting for Nick's answer to that one.

“I would prefer... not to... at the moment.”

“Then you will be happy to hear that he makes his way over here just now.”

The way Nick turns around so fast he nearly gets a crick in his neck sends them all into bouts of laughter while the man in question acts as if he hasn't noticed a thing.

 

Nick sends him an evil stare, anyway. Sean may appear as guileless as any shrewd Bastard Prince can, but he knows better. He can practically see a devious smirk lurking under that cool facade.

Instead of walking over to them, though, Renard joins Hank and manages to look like royalty even wearing casual clothes and stretching long legs out in front of him while lounging in a garden chair next to the Afro-American.

 

_Damn the man for his aura. And damn him for managing to give me the creeps without even putting up an effort._

 

>>>

 

“Any reason why Nick is so skittish all of a sudden?”

Hank asks as he sinks deeper into the comfortable chair, ice cold beer in hand and his gaze on the Captain.

“I cannot think of a single reason. It might be the stress of today finally catching up with him.”

The dark look Nick sends him from over the lawn clearly says 'I have heard that!' but Sean just calmly inclines his head, raises his glass of wine in a silent toast and smiles quietly. To everyone he looks like an epitome of a well-meaning Captain... to everyone except Nick!

“If you say so, Captain.” Hank is chuckling.

He has to give it to the man, he is a true master of underhanded schemes. Even knowing that he is teasing Nick in some way, he's been unable to detect any trace of mocking in the man's tone. It's as he's said: Sean Renard is a genius at acting and plotting... and at keeping Nick out of trouble, which is good.

Anyway. Whatever his partner has done, Hank is relatively sure he deserves Renard's little act of putting terror in his heart. So with a content sigh he takes another swig of his microbrew and continues to enjoy the afternoon in the sun.

 

>>>

 

The have all retired to living room and kitchen, sated after a hearty meal and content to take the time for chat and drink.

Hank comes in from where he's been standing by the backdoor with Wu to find their Grimm and the Captain sitting on the couch, talking quietly. For all their earlier differences they seem quite content with each others company. Good for them. Those two stubborn guys do need someone to take care of and keep each other in line.

“Another beer, gentlemen?”

Both gaze up and – had they been any less seasoned than they are – would have looked like deer caught in the headlights.

“Yeah... (a jaw cracking yawn)... sorry. Yeah, sure.”

“Yes, gladly.” Sean adds with much more dignity than the tired Grimm.

With a nod and a grin Hank goes to fetch more bottles.

 

What awaits him upon returning is even better than seeing those two absorbed in their own little world:

It is fearsome, never inconvenienced, always in control Captain Renard sitting on the couch completely motionless. Nick is still there... only he is not talking anymore. Hank can barely keep in the hearty laugh threatening to bubble up so he goes for an all out smirk as he comes up beside the men on the couch.

“Captain, why do I have the feeling that this has happened before?”

The half-zauberbiest doesn't deign this with an answer. Instead he makes a single, measured gesture with his right hand to prompt him into handing over the requested drink. All the while his stare is so deadly that he actually makes Hank choke on any further comments.

Monroe has no such qualms.

“Well Hank, you might get that impression because our good Captain knows exactly how to move his right hand and arm while he keeps his left side absolutely still. And here I talk about the very left side, on which a certain Grimm is conveniently leaning while residing in slumberland.”

For once the blutbad's smile appears wolfish as he leans with his arms on the backrest of the couch opposite of them.

“Thank you, Monroe. Now do you think you can fetch a slice of cheesecake for me or do you have any other clever observations to make?”

Had that deep drawl been directed at him Hank would have fled as fast as he could but it isn't so he just enjoys the show.

“How are you going to eat it?” Honest confusion on Monroe's part now... and no sense of self-preservation at all.

“I will manage.” Tone clipped, no emotion leaking through at all. Uh. Oh.

“Hey mate, you should run as fast as you can... either to fetch that cake or to the other end of the city.... At this point I am not sure if either will save your life, though.”

Hank asserts in a stage whisper while waiting for the clockmaker to rediscover his survival instinct.

“Errr... I think I'll take option... A.”

Finally.

“Good choice.” As Monroe scurries off Hank and Sean share a conspiratorial grin. And all the while Nick remains oblivious to the world, deeply asleep and with his head resting heavily on the zauberbiest's shoulder.

“I wouldn't have killed him.” Renard sounds reasonable enough... partly reasonable, anyway.

“I am aware. But as you are making sure my little rookie partner gets all the sleep he deserves by acting as half an unmoving pillow I thought it only right to help out.”

The Captain's expression definitely leans toward grateful now. Somewhere in the distance the flash of a camera goes off. Another fearsome glare is sent in that direction. Oh, it's _such_ a shame Renard cannot move right now for fear of waking Nick. Hank wisely keeps that thought to himself, though.

 

Five minutes later both Monroe and Hank watch in fascination as the ruler of wesen Portland balances a plate on his right thigh, scooping up portions of cake with a fork in his right hand and all the while managing not to move a single muscle on his left side! Did Hank mention that this man is a genius... and that he is absolutely indulging their local Grimm?

 

>>>

 

It is getting rather late. Someone has left the remote control within easy reach along with an open bottle of water, so he's been able to watch tv and take a drink from time to time, but his bladder is beginning to make demands and his neck growing stiff from remaining still for so long. The others have long gone. They are alone.

 

Slowly and with infinite care he sees about extricating himself from under his Detective without waking him. Really, the things he is doing nowadays. He keeps his arm slung around Nick's shoulders to make sure he's resting safely while he takes a pillow and puts it where his head will come to lie on the couch. Upon lowering him to the cushions Nick rouses enough to murmur something grumbly. Sean strains to listen.

“Removing... pillow?” Oh yes, that sounds decidedly grumpy.

“Rather the opposite. I am making sure you actually have a pillow to begin with. And now go back to sleep, silly Grimm.”

The Grimm huffs quietly before he falls asleep again, face half buried into the soft pillow and lulled in by Sean's deep, velvety voice.

 

The bastard Prince looks down on his Grimm with exasperated fondness even as he shakes his head at his own mother-henning antics. That is not like him at all. It is that impossible man, that has changed him.

Somehow though, ...somehow he cannot begrudge him that fact. So much has happened. So many walls have been torn... on both sides, so many aspects of the other's self been discovered along the way.

 

For all his disbelief at his own protective tendencies he still takes a blanket to cover up his friend. Lights are turned off, last things put to rights, then the tall zauberbiest exits the house by the front door and quietly pulls the door close behind himself.

Nick is safe and sleeping soundly after a thrilling, tiring day.

 

>>>

 

>Is it possible that I used you as a pillow... again and then snapped at you for moving away?<

>Yes, that sums it up quite nicely. Good report, Detective.<

>And you called me a silly Grimm?<

>You have a fascinating ability to recollect.<

>Well, I try. Grimm traits and all, you know.<

>Are you aware that we have to work on your high-headedness?<

>I like you, too, Sean. And I am sure you meant thick-headedness... at least that's what you scold me for the rest of the time.<

>I'm not going to comment on the first part.<

>That’s okay. Words aren't necessary.<

>I've told you repeatedly what I think about assumptions.<

>Not assuming, putting together the clues. Let me explain: I watched discovery channel Friday evening.<

>Captivating.<

Sarcasm in its purest form conveyed by text message.

>Yes. I know. Anyway. When I put on the tv on Saturday evening it was on BBC1, which means someone else has watched tv in the time from Friday eve to Saturday eve. Only person possible: You. Being who you are, you wouldn't even have contemplated that, had you not been prepared for a longer wait. That in turn means you've let me use you as a pillow for hours, ergo, you like me. It also means I am embarrassed as hell but that are technicalities. Remember? I am a Detective.<

>I may have to concede your point.<

And that's it. Somehow, somewhere along the way they have stepped into becoming more than colleagues or allies. As improbable as it seems, the Grimm and the bastard zauberbiest Prince have become friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh, oh, another one done! I really hope the marathon wasn't too detailed or boring and... so not sure about this. By the way, the thing with Nick taping his nipples is really done by runners.  
> On that note, if any of you likes to suggest another nice cheering 'GRIMM' line for the banners of our crew, just put it in a comment here and I'll incorporate it into the story. ^, ^"  
> What more can I say? Nick and Sean really have become close friends... and they are definitely going to need all of that for what I have in store for Nick next.


End file.
